


Second Verse, Same as the First

by Irony_Rocks



Category: The Vampire Diaries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-21
Updated: 2011-11-11
Packaged: 2017-10-20 14:52:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 147,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/213946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irony_Rocks/pseuds/Irony_Rocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been six years since Bonnie Bennett left Mystic Falls behind, but one urgent phone call from Elena sends her right back into the world she'd tried so desperately to leave behind. When she discovers half her friends missing, her only true ally remains Damon Salvatore, who has changed in a paranormal way she could never have imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Prologue: _Home, Sweet Home_**

Bonnie promised herself that this was just a temporary trip back. Flipping the sun-visor down, she veered her father’s old station wagon off to the left, merging onto Highway 238, and breathed a slow exhale.  _Mystic Falls – 7 Miles_ , a sign said. It had been years, but the sight was achingly familiar and she wondered about the small surge of home-sickness that mingled in with her apprehension. No matter the level of horrors and disasters that had befallen her in this place, it was and always would be her hometown. 

Six years away hadn’t taken that away, as much as Bonnie had tried to put her teenage years behind her. 

Bonnie recited yet again a small mantra that had been playing over and over again in her head. She was just here for a brief period; she wouldn’t stay long; she wouldn’t get drawn into the latest drama or emergency that had befallen her old friends. She’d help – however she could – but as soon as she could, she’d leave. It was best for everyone. It was best for her. 

After a brief pause, Bonnie gave a mirthless laugh. Damn it. She wasn’t even convincing  _herself_  with her promises. After all, it had taken just one missed phone call and resulting voicemail message from Elena – just one, where she’d heard tears in her friend’s voice – and here Bonnie was, rushing back like she’d never made the decision to leave in the first place. 

But it was Elena, and no matter the years and the distance, Elena was the closest thing she had left in the world to family. There was no one else left. 

Bonnie just hoped she wasn’t too late.

She saw her exit, and quickly pulled the car off the highway. The truck rolled onto uneven pavement for a brief period before she hit the hard smooth asphalt that led to the Salvatore driveway. Another minute later when she was ringing the doorbell, no one answered. Seven hours rushing here, no stops, not even bathroom breaks – and there was no one to greet her. Bonnie kept her agitation reigned in, but the fear – oh, the fear quickly creeped in so easily. 

 _“Bonnie, something’s happened,” Elena had sobbed desperately in her message. “It’s Damon and Jeremy. We need your help. Just please, call me as soon as you get this. It’s important. As soon as you get this.”_

But Elena had never answered her phone, and now there was no one answering the door. 

Bonnie waved a hand and the door flew open. She entered without hesitation, finding the interior of the house dark and empty despite the early evening hours. The sunlight barely penetrated the inner sanctum of the Salvatore mansion; Bonnie wondered if that had been purposeful. There was a draft somewhere that sent a shiver up her spine; she was wearing a black skirt, heavy makeup and her hair had been done in hot-iron-induced waves. Before she’d gotten the call from Elena, Bonnie had been on her way to a party. Now, she felt strangely dressed, wearing attire more appropriate for clubbing than one suitable for anything supernatural.

She wandered through the long hallway, calling out – only silence greeted her. When she came to the main room, she stopped short in surprise.

The sidewall that was covered from the floor to the ceiling with books looked like someone had tossed a tornado its way. The place was disastrous – books shredded, torn and loose pages everywhere, entire bookshelves broken and fallen to heaps on the floor. The rest of the room remained untouched. Only the library had suffered. Someone had gotten angry, and decided the written word was their enemy. Bonnie didn’t know what that meant, but it couldn’t have been good. 

She pulled her cell free and dialed Elena again. Again, she received the voicemail. This was followed by a series of other calls – to Stefan, Jeremy, Caroline, and Tyler. Lastly, she tried Damon. Nothing. Not a single one of them answered. Bonnie tried not to panic.

What the hell was going on?

* * *

Her second stop was to  _The Grill_ , which – thank God – she finally found someone. Matt was behind the counter, preparing for the evening by setting up the bar and cleaning glasses. He looked up when she entered, and surprise bloomed on his face.

“Bonnie? Whoa, what are you doing here?”

Bonnie flashed a brief smile before stepping up to the bar, placing her hands against the edge of the counter. Her fingers dug into the countertop. “I just got into town.” She looked around, then dropped her voice into a conspiratory whisper. “I got a strange call from Elena, actually. Something about Damon and Jeremy? It didn’t sound good.”

Matt’s face closed off. “Look, I wish I could help, but I really don’t know. I don’t… I saw them the other day, and everything look cool.”

“When?”

Matt shrugged. “Two days ago? Maybe three?”

Bonnie sighed. Two or three days was more than enough time for the shit to hit the fan, and she knew better than to assume Matt was in-the-know about anything that had gone down in the supernatural world. 

She tapped her finger against the countertop. “If you see anyone? Just – tell ‘em I’m in town and looking?”

“Caroline should be coming in for her evening shift any second now,” Matt answered.

That surprised Bonnie. “She works here?”

“Two months now,” he offered, with a sheepish shrug and a small smile. “Broke a dozen glasses in the first month, but she's getting better.”

Bonnie gave a small laugh. “I’ll wait around, then.”

She turned around to find a place to sit, when Matt called, “Hey, Bonnie? It’s good to see you again.”

And Bonnie went flustered all over, realizing she’d forgone all normal conversation of a reunion in favor to her concerns. God, she hadn’t even asked him how he’d been doing. Feeling a little embarrassed, she returned to the bar and struck up a conversation with him, asking him about his life and telling him as little about hers as she possibly could. She was doing a graduate degree, like a normal girl her age, but the truth was, she’d spent the better part of the last decade of her life brushing up on advanced witchcraft and anything paranormal. That stuff freaked Matt out; freaked out any normal person, of course. He’d gotten better at dealing with it over the span of their senior year in high school, but he’d never liked it much. Bonnie could understand that, and even appreciated the sentiment behind it. He’d made his decision years ago to stay out of this world, and God bless him, he’d stuck to it. Bonnie envied him that. She’d never been given the choice either way.

At a quarter passed seven, the doorbell that hung above  _The Grill’s_  front door gave a little ring, and Bonnie turned, hoping to find Caroline walking through the door. Instead, she found Damon Salvatore – beaten and bloody – stumbling through the doorway, barely able to keep upright.

“Get down!” he shouted.

A second later, the windows of the bar shattered inwards with an explosion.

Chaos broke out. A part of Bonnie would have mused that chaos always broke out when Damon entered a room, but she was too busy ducking behind an unsturdy table to think quite that wryly yet. She saw Damon stagger in, take the brunt force of the shattered glass, and fall behind another piece of furniture in the room. Bonnie could smell magic in the air; there was a mage nearby, or a witch. 

“What the fu—” Matt exclaimed.

“Stay down!” she told him. She turned back towards Damon’s fallen body; he looked a bloody mess. The front door was half hanging off its hinges, and she couldn’t see anyone outside but the smell of magic was too stark and rank. Someone was outside. “What’s going on?”

Damon grimaced and glared. “What do you think, Glinda? We’ve got ourselves a pissed-off warlock outside.”

Bonnie didn’t have time to get the details. The front door burst open with such a force that it knocked the door clear across the room. A moment later, Bonnie watched a man walk in - tall, white, in his early thirties, with a long black coat and his hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. She could sense the power in him.

She wasn’t impressed.

Rising from behind the counter, she called out, “Hey.”

The mage didn’t even pause to think about innocent bystanders or who she was; he just struck out a hand and threw a fireball at her, but Bonnie was already on defense. She warded off the fire and deflected it back towards him. He took the brunt force of his own spell and flew back towards the wall. She advanced. Damon remained on the ground, face down with his black leather jacket scorched and damaged. She had a spare thought to his welfare before the mage rebounded with a psychic push. He threw her back against a corner pool table.

“And who the hell are you?” the mage demanded.

Bonnie’s eyes narrowed, but didn’t bother to answer. She summoned the jukebox and slammed it into the side of the mage. He crashed onto the floor, and the psychic hold over Bonnie that pinned her to the pool table let go. She fell, but by the time she recovered her legs, she looked up and found the mage running out the door. She could have followed, and finished it. But a glance around reassessed her situation and her priorities. 

“Matt?” she called out.

Matt was rising from behind the bar. “I’m here.”

Damon groaned, still on the ground. They both rushed to Damon’s side, though Bonnie reached him seconds first. She hauled him over, revealing a bloody face - a dark bruise was forming on the side of his face and his lip was torn open. He looked like hell, and probably felt worse. It wasn’t anything life threatening to a vampire, though.

“What the hell is going on?” 

“And hello to you too, Bonnie,” he tried to snark back, but it came out a grimace. He spat up blood. “What are you doing back in town?”

“Apparently saving your ass. Elena called me. She said something happened to Jeremy—”

Damon broke out in laughter, half sadistic, like he was privy to a perverse joke. “Oh, yeah, something happened, all right. Jeremy’s dead.”

And he said it just like that, like he was talking about the weather, something simple and fact-like. Bonnie felt all the blood drain from her face, frozen. Jeremy? Dead? No. Her mind rebelled. It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t true. She couldn’t imagine it.

Matt was in the sense to follow up with, “What? When did that happen?” But by the time the words were out, Damon’s eyes had rolled back and he’d passed out. “Damon? Damon?”

“Damon!” she demanded.

“Shit,” Matt said, “He’s beat up bad.”

“I don’t care,” she threw back, shaking him. “Wake up, damn it! Damon, what happened to Jeremy? Damon!”

“I don’t think he’s gonna wake up.”

Bonnie wasn’t in the mood. She didn’t care about his injuries; she just shook him harder. Anger burned through her. Typical, she thought furiously, for Damon drop a bombshell like that and then pass out before giving her any answers. She’d broken up with Jeremy over seven years ago, but he’d always be the first boy she’d ever loved, the guy she lost her virginity to, and if nothing else, he’d always be Elena’s little brother. 

Jeremy’s dead. 

“Damon!” she said, and her voice broke, not realizing there were tears welling in her eyes. “Wake up! What happened to Jeremy?”

Damon still didn’t respond, passed out as if he’d slipped into a coma. Finally, some measure of concern trickled in, and Bonnie finally started thinking again. He probably needed blood. They didn’t have any on them, and hell if she was gonna offer any of hers. She could still help him, though. She reached out with her powers to sense his injuries and fix them magically. The injuries should have been an easy fix; his body would already be doing most of the work.

But something within the psychic connection shocked her, and Bonnie pulled back abruptly. Her thoughts slammed into breaks, frozen in a moment of disbelief. No. It couldn’t be. That didn’t make any sense—

“What?” Matt asked, throwing a look askew at her. “Why aren’t you helping him?” 

She sat back, legs tucked under her, stunned. “He’s… I don’t understand. He’s…”

“What?”

He had a warm body, a sedated breath, and a heartbeat – an honest to god heartbeat. 

“Damon’s human.”

* * *

  
 **Chapter One: _Of All the Gin Joints…_**

They took him to the backroom. Matt helped her deposit him on top of a corner table, where Damon splayed out like a beaten bag of bones. A thousand questions raced through her. Matt left briefly to close up the front when some patrons started gathering around the broken entrance. The place had been left a warzone; someone had already called the cops, but Matt assured her that Sherriff Forbes would cover up the attack quietly. 

It figured that her first interaction of Damon Salvatore in years would be end in violence. She assumed that the last decade of trying-to-do-good in Mystic Falls would have left its mark somewhere on him, but it was almost like Damon preferred things bloody and mysterious. How had this happened?  _Damon, as a human being._  It was a paradox. He looked the same: dark hair, pale skin, sulky mouth, and that lean, flamboyant grace that was particular to his body. She stared at him in bewilderment. 

The injuries he’d sustained were significant, so Bonnie healed him of what injuries she could.

When he finally came to, he groaned, squinting against the bright beams of light overhead. His eyes shifted to find her studying him. “Huh,” he grunted, lazily. “So you’re really here, then?”

“Yeah, you weren’t dreaming. The pain of you flying through a wall should have tipped you off.”

He looked wasted away, or prematurely haggard, but even beaten and  _human_ , Damon didn’t let that phase him. He rose up from the table, ignoring his pains with nothing more than a wince. The thing that struck her as most odd was the sober expression on his face. Then the corner of his mouth kicked up, and…there.  _There_  was that smug expression that riled her up so easily, like a finger snap.

“Bonnie,” he said with a leer. “Anyone ever tell you look good enough to eat. You do something new with your hair?”

Leave it to Damon to pick up on her flashy attire when she’d nearly forgotten about it, herself.

“Damon,” she warned. “Not now.”

“Really? I think it’s the perfect time for it.”

“Damon!”

He winced. “Easy there. My head still feels like a truck ran over it.” He paused, then glared at her. “Judging by the fact that I’m not bleeding internally anymore, you healed me. Couldn’t take care of the headache too?”

“Be thankful I’m not doing my infamous aneurism trick right now.”

“That’d kill me, seeing as I’m human at the moment.”

“Don’t tempt me,” she challenged, then braced her hands against the table. 

She took a couple of deep breaths, trying not to concentrate on his smirking face. It was scary, how easily they fell back into this pattern. It had been six years, and they still traded barbs like they fed off it. It wasn’t that they weren’t friends – somewhere over the past decade, despite herself, she’d grown to realize that Damon wasn’t  _all_  bad. He could, given the right circumstances, be an upstanding guy with good intentions. Those circumstances usually revolved around Elena. 

“How the hell are you human?”

He gave her a mock-smile. “A spell, how else? It’s complicated.”

“No shit,” she threw back. “What spell?”

He waved a hand, dismissing her question like it was a petty one. He climbed down from the table slowly, wincing as if he had sore muscles and aching joints. Being human again must have been an readjustment, and the truth was Bonnie could have helped take away more of the pain, but she was running low on her power and needed to reserve some if there was anymore trouble. She suspected there would be. 

Besides, he was still being dismissive of her questions, so Bonnie wasn’t in the most cooperative of moods either.

“Where’s Elena and Stefan?” he asked.

She threw up her hands. “How should I know? I came into town an hour ago. I stopped by your place, but it was empty.”

“I was your first stop in town? I feel special.”

“I was looking for Elena, and she’s usually with Stefan. I was looking for  _them_.”

“Well, I guess that makes two of us, now.”

“Why hasn’t anyone been answering their cell phones?”

Damon’s eyes darkened with annoyance. “ I don’t know anyone else’s excuse, but I was busy having my ass kicked by a warlock. But I’ll make sure to text next time, pinky-swear. Speaking of, where is evil little Gandolf anyway?” 

“That guy that sent you threw the wall? I sent him away.”

He paused, glancing at her, and a small smirk grew on his lips. “My hero,” he said, in a tone that was half-mocking, half-serious. 

Whatever. He was still an asshole. 

“You got a ride?” he asked, then looked out the back window and spotted her pick-up truck. “Never mind, I see it. C’mon.”

“Where are we going?”

“Jeeze, you ask a lot of questions. Get in the truck and drive. I’ll explain on the way.” 

* * *

Turned out, there was new baddie in town. What else was new? First Katherine, then Klaus – actually, now that she thought about it, the first baddie to sweep through this town had actually been Damon. She rubbed a hand across her brow, and attempted to refocus. 

She hadn’t gotten the details yet, just the broad brushstrokes. The warlock had a first name, but no last: Ethan. He’d been attempting to channel the powers of all the supernatural forces that had been making its way through Mystic Falls, presumably trying to harvest it into his body. It was basically what Bonnie had done years ago in her junior year, where she’d gained a hundred witches’ power and effectively became one of the strongest witches in the world. Except, of course, Ethan didn’t seem to have her well intentions. 

Damon was distracted or in pain, but either way he was slow to answer her barrage of questions. Ethan had kidnapped a few among the group: Damon, Jeremy, Elena and Stefan. Possibly Caroline, too. There had been a spell performed, a bad one. Damon didn’t know what had happened to the others, but the end result for himself - for reasons Bonnie couldn’t yet fathom, Damon had ended up human.

“And Jeremy became a vampire,” Damon added, like an afterthought. “I think it was about balance, or something.”

She slammed the brakes on her trucks, bringing them to a screeching halt. “What?”

“Balance,” Damon repeated in a wry tone, though he knew that wasn’t the part of the sentence that tripped Bonnie up. “Life and death, yin and yang, human and vampire. I became human, and Jeremy became a vampire. I told you he was dead.”

“Jesus, Damon, when you say dead, I think—” she forced a deep breath, and refocused, “where is he?”

Damon shrugged, looking out the window. “Last I saw, he was leaving me high and dry in the hands of good ol’ Ethan back there. He escaped, and failed to bring me along for the ride.” He shrugged again. “Must have been the blood thirst.”

There was something there – an undercurrent of emotion. Bonnie couldn’t figure it out, but she knew by his impassive tone that it wouldn’t do for her to press him on it. It didn’t matter. The idea of a bloodthirsty Jeremy was a good distraction. She couldn’t imagine him like that. She didn’t want to.

“We gotta regroup,” he added. “Let’s hope Elena and Stefan escaped too, and if they did, we have to find them.”

“Would they go back to your place?”

Damon shook his head. “That’s where we were taken from. They’d know better than to go back there.”

“Then where?”

He pointed towards the left. “Take the next turn, and try Caroline’s new place on Fifth Avenue. She was there when we were kidnapped, but I don’t think she was taken. I don’t… ” He broke off, and this time, the emotion was too clear on his face to misinterpret.  _Grief._  Damon Salvatore was feeling pain on behalf of a person other than himself, his brother or Elena. She’d never really witnessed that before. “We gotta find her.”

She didn’t need to be told twice. Doubling her speed, Bonnie took the fastest route, but she was a little disconcerted to realize that she’d forgotten some of the turns and needed to rely on Damon’s directions somewhat. Six years had changed little of Mystic Falls, but her memory wasn’t as fresh as it used to be.

“Damon,” she took a deep breath, forcing her voice even. “One mage couldn’t have done all this. You guys are more powerful than that.”

“It isn’t just one mage. There’s another one. The second one… she’s more powerful.”

“A witch, too?” She paused. “Why didn’t you call me before?”

He slanted her a dark look. “Would you have come? If it hadn’t been Elena, if she hadn’t been in goddamn tears – would you have come?”

The words were said harshly, incredulous – and for a moment, Bonnie was taken aback by the vehemence behind it. She had no idea why Damon was pissed at her; her decision to leave Mystic Falls had nothing to do with him. Instead, ignoring the spoken question, she pulled into Caroline’s driveway and shut off the engine. 

They walked to her front door in silence, but once again, no one was there to answer it.

* * *

Damon crashed onto Caroline’s couch, needing a moment to rest and recover. A growing list of missing friends, and a thinning reservoir of patience, and Damon was one tick shy of just collapsing.  _This goddamn human body._  And as much as he loved riling up Bonnie, a neglected hobby as of late, it took out more energy from him than he probably had left to spare. 

He needed to regroup, refocus, and then he could make heads or tails of the situation. Right now, the blinding headache behind his right eye was making it hard to focus on anything else. The only thing that registered was the very real tinge of panic that he beat back. Stefan, Elena, Jeremy, Caroline – they were all gone and missing. Bonnie only knew half the story, and he wasn’t sure he was up to spilling the beans on the rest.

Bonnie pursed her lips, considering. “Tell me about the spell.”

He waved a hand. “Lights. Candles. Blood. Some incomprehensible Latin. I couldn’t tell you the specifics even if I hadn’t been unconscious for most of it.”

“Did you see any of the ingredients?”

He thought back furiously, though outwardly he made it seem like he was just resting his eyes. Yes, there had been something – a red jewel of some sort? He couldn’t recall much, but he remembered the way the light had reflected off it when Ethan had dropped it into the center of his pentagram. He peered his eyes open, spied a pen and a notepad on Caroline’s shitty little coffee table, and snagged it. After a few seconds sketching in quiet, he handed Bonnie a piece of paper with a drawing. The jewel was an octagon shape, smaller than his hand – probably the size of hers.

“It’s red,” he said. “Very shiny.”

She studied it. “It doesn’t look familiar. I’ll check it out.” 

“Yippie.”

He collapsed back on the couch again and stayed that way for some time, while Bonnie made her way through the house. On the corner table, Damon snagged a framed photo of Caroline and Tyler on their wedding day from the prior summer. A werewolf and a vampire, married – Damon still couldn’t stop gagging over the cheesiness of it. 

Bonnie made a lot of noise as she dug through the drawers in the living room. He had no idea what she was doing. Looking for clues? There were no clues. Three days ago, all had been right with the world – or as right it got in a place like Mystic Falls. Then Ethan and that bitch of a witch had shown up, and seventy-two hours later he’d somehow ended up with an added heartbeat and shortchanged a few friends. 

“What was the witch’s name?” Bonnie called out to him, from the kitchen.

“Don’t know,” he called back. “She was black, the same age as Ethan. Maybe a little older? No, wait... I think I did hear him call her something. Betty? Becky? No, that’s not — Bethany. That’s it. I think it was Bethany.”

There was a moment of silence that stretched out, and then he heard Bonnie approaching his couch. He opened his eyes to find her looming over him, and the expression on her face had just gone pale. Stark pale.

“Bethany?” she asked, very quietly.

Damon grunted. “Yeah, Bethany. Why? You know a witch by that name?”

Bonnie looked away and swallowed thickly. Recognition was written all over her face, along with growing surge of apprehension. Shit, she looked pale. Damon pulled himself up, settling his feet on the floor. He didn’t like it when Bonnie got scared. Bonnie scared meant  _very. bad. things._  for everyone.

“I only know of one witch named Bethany,” she said, uncertain. “Bethany Bennett.”

Shit. That was just what they needed. An evil Bennett witch. 

“She your aunt or something?”

“No,” Bonnie said, nonplussed. “She’s my mother.”

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: The Cavalry Ain’t What It Used To Be…**

Night fell over Mystic Falls, and things ground to a halt. Damon watched as Bonnie tried to do a locator spell, but apparently someone had dropped a net on Mystic Falls that made it nearly impossible to track any supernatural beings within it. Someone had to be very powerful to do that, to block a witch like Bonnie. He thought back to Bethany; she had been beautiful, and looked a lot like Bonnie actually. In retrospect, he could see a strong resemblance, and though he didn’t want to wade into any family drama (he'd had enough of his own, thank you very much), he needed to know what the deal was with her mother.

“She left when I was seven,” Bonnie informed him, coolly. “Your guess is as good as mine. Dad never really talked about her, and I stopped asking questions after a while. Grams used to tell me that she… that she had power, like me. But I never knew she became that powerful of a witch.”

A very powerful, evil witch.  _Terrific_.

“We don’t know for positive it’s her,” Bonnie reminded him.

It was an obvious and desperate grab for hope. Damon let her have it.

He scrubbed a hand through his hair, and got up. He sat back down again when a rush of dizziness swept through him. Damn it, it  _sucked_  being a human. He was weak and nauseous, and the blinding headache just wouldn’t go away. It had been over one hundred and sixty years since he’d felt this vulnerable, and Damon hated it. He despised being this defenseless. 

“Stay here,” Bonnie said to him. “You need to rest.”

He glared up at her. “And where are you going?”

“I’m gonna try and track down Jeremy. He doesn’t have a ring, which means he can probably only feed after sunset. I’ve got a finite window of opportunity to find him.”

“You have any idea where to look?” Damon asked, wryly.

“He’s a newbie vampire with bloodlust. There’s only so many hotspots in Mystic Falls. I’ll find him.”

“He’s dangerous.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, ‘cause I wouldn’t have guessed that. Besides, I know Jeremy. I’ll be able to reach him.”

It was his turn to roll his eyes. “You’re not listening. I know you’re thinking about Jeremy, your emo ex-boyfriend – and how he couldn’t possibly be all that bad as a vampire. Trust me, you haven’t seen him yet.”

“I can handle myself, and I’ve seen how newbie vampires can be. I was there when Caroline—”

“He switched it off.” 

Bonnie stilled, thrown by the declaration. “What?”

His voice softened in sympathy, “He shut it off completely, his human side. Caroline wasn’t like that, not even when she was killing. You’ve never seen a new vampire that wasn’t restrained. And Jeremy wasn’t exactly normal to begin with, either.”

Damon had no idea how Jeremy’s ability to communicate with the dead was going to complicate things, but he knew it wasn’t going to help them any.

Bonnie stared at him with a crestfallen face. “He really switched it off?”

Damon turned away, disliking the way vulnerability looked upon her. “He killed a girl already. I saw it happen.” He forced his eyes back on her in order to convey the message clearly. “There wasn’t remorse in his eyes when he did it, Bonnie.”

She shook her head in denial. “No. No. Jeremy wouldn’t choose that. He’d fight for his humanity—”

“That boy has been put through shit his entire life. Why wouldn’t he shut it off when he got the chance? He’s lost everyone he’s ever loved, with the one exception of Elena. Not to mention,  _cough, cough,_  his string of girlfriends that have left him high and dry. At the least the other ones wound up dead. What was your excuse again? Oh, yeah,” he adopted a high shrilly voice, mimicking her excuses with as much vapidness as he could imbue in the words. “ _‘Mystic Falls brings out the worst in everyone. I can’t stay here anymore. It’s too hard.’”_

Bonnie flinched, then her face hardened with anger, and he liked seeing that a lot more than watching her grieve. “Don’t talk about things you don’t understand.”

He shrugged indifferently. “I know you broke his puppy-dog heart into little itty-bitty pieces, sweetheart. Becoming a vamp amplifies emotions from your human life. You might not like how he treats you now.”

She squared her shoulders, squared her jaw, squared damn near every corner-edge of her body. “I can take care of myself, and I can handle Jeremy. Don’t worry about me.”

“Wasn’t,” Damon responded, lightly. “Just protecting the only witch that can save our asses from mommy-dearest.”

She recoiled as if slapped, then turned enraged. “What the hell is wrong with you, Damon? Is there a minimum quota of asshattery that you have to hit every day, or am I just getting the special treatment here?”

He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything else to escalate the argument, Bonnie’s cell phone rang. They turned towards the noise simultaneously, and for a beat they were both distracted by the hope of getting a hold of one of their missing friends, but when Bonnie answered it, it turned out to be Matt. 

Damon rolled his eyes and went back to the kitchen to grab something to eat. Man, he’d forgotten how good food could taste, and that was before they'd invented junkfood. He'd eaten food as a vamp, but the texture was different, the flavor always second best to blood. Damon grabbed a bag of Cheetos from the pantry and tore it open, stuffing a handful into his mouth. 

Bonnie’s voice drifted in, as she told Matt, “Yeah, apparently a human-Damon is just as much of a pain in the ass as a vampire-Damon, but I can handle it.”

After a pause, Damon figured he might’ve deserved that comment.

It was like they'd slipped backwards six years and he was playing the devil again just to needle her. He had no idea why he was being such an ass. Back, before she’d left this town, he would have dared to say that they’d grown to be close friends – or as close as friends as Damon got, back then. It wasn’t like the easy camaraderie he had with Alaric, or the familial affection he’d grown to have with Caroline. No, Bonnie had always been a special breed all her own, the one girl who’d never fallen for his charms or his looks or his utter bullshit. 

They’d long moved passed the whole I-can-kill-you-with-the-power-of-my-brain phase of their relationship, but he suspected the only reason he wasn’t suffering from an aneurism attack right about now was because it might  _actually_  kill him in this pathetic body, and Bonnie still had that uppity moral high ground going for her. 

He should probably tone it down, though. Damon knew that. She'd just found out her mother may have gone Darth Vadar, after all. That had to sting. He felt a trickle of remorse work its way through him, remembering his own gripes with parental figures and various abandonment issues. Bonnie had done all right by herself, but he knew it was her father’s death six years ago that had been the final straw that had forced her to leave behind Mystic Falls. He hadn’t particularly liked the decision, but like most things when it came to Bonnie, he’d respected it. He couldn’t say he respected a lot of other people he knew. Almost none, in fact.

“C’mon,” Bonnie called from the hallway, as she shut off her phone. “That was Matt. He said Sheriff Forbes wants to talk to us.”

* * *

Liz was sitting behind her desk when Damon walked into the Sheriff’s office, and Bonnie was two steps ahead of him, giving him a nice view of the form-fitting jeans that she’d snagged from Caroline’s place. They were twenty minutes late because Bonnie had insisted on changing her clothes into something more comfortable. She’d raided Caroline’s closet and dug up two layered tank tops, too. Her bare shoulders were a nice attraction, but God, she was so tiny. He could span the width of her back with one stretch of his hand. 

It was easy to forget that when she wasn’t right in front of him. His memory of her had faded to this powerful, judge-y witch that had weathered all the supernatural baddies that had come and gone through this town, all with a calm and composure that vampires ten times her age didn’t have. Now, with her striding right in front of him, he was reminded for the first time in years that she was just a girl, barely out of undergrad. 

For all the power Damon knew she had in her, she still looked like a seventeen old sometimes. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing; most women would kill to look that good for the rest of their lives. Most vampires did exactly that.

“Bonnie,” Liz said with affection, rising to greet the younger girl. “It’s been forever.”

“Hi, Sheriff Forbes,” came the response, with the same youthful enthusiasm that he’d have expected of her years back. “It’s good to see you.”

As he watched them hug, he realized he’d almost forgotten that she’d grown up alongside Caroline, and probably spent countless nights in sleepovers at the Sheriff’s house. He could picture it clearly. Caroline, Elena and Bonnie: braiding hairs, having pillow fights, sharing budding lesbian experiences. Damon smirked. 

“Have you seen Caroline?” Bonnie asked.

Liz’s face closed off, pinched with worry. “Not since yesterday. What’s going on?”

Before Damon could respond, the side door opened and Tyler came through. Dressed in the same ugly-ass brown polyester uniform as Liz, Tyler pushed his way through the row of desks and caught up with the group.

“Sheriff,” Tyler greeted.

“Deputy,” Liz returned to her son-in-law. “You hear anything?”

“No sign of Caroline,” Tyler said, and then spared a look towards Damon and Bonnie. “Hey, Bonnie—”

“Save the reunion hugs for later,” Damon cut in, impatiently. “Talk to me about what’s going on in town.”

Tyler scowled, but a second later when Liz prompted him with a nod, he was dutifully filling him on the anything suspicious in town. Unfortunately, the list of events didn’t amount to much in Damon’s opinion. A few dead animals in the woods, a handful of destroyed property on the eastern side of town, and some other bullshit tricks that were probably high school seniors having fun. 

“No bodies?” Bonnie asked, and Damon knew she was thinking of potential victims that Jeremy might have drained. 

“No.” Tyler paused for a second, trading looks back and forth. “Fuck, don’t tell me we’re looking for anyone specific?”

Liz flashed a dark look. “Not yet, anyway. All right, Matt filled me in some and Bonnie talked to me over the phone. If I understand the situation correctly, we’re missing Caroline, Elena and Stefan – and there’s a… a warlock and a witch in town?”

Bonnie hesitated for a second. He got the feeling that she was internally debating about whether to mention that the witch might possibly be her mother, but she just glanced up and exchanged a silent plea with Damon. He could see the uncertainty and fear in her eyes, though she did a good job of covering it up and, a second later, was looking away.

“Yeah,” Damon answered for her, vaguely. “And they’re powerful, too.”

Liz paused, studying him. “How’re you doing with the whole human thing?”

Damon shrugged it off like it was a mere nuisance. “Oh, you know, it’s just peachy with a side of keen. I’m not of a fan of the frequent bathroom breaks, but hey, the last time I was human, we didn’t have indoor plumbing. Not complaining here.”

The truth was, he was working off exhaust fumes. It was hard standing up right now, but he did it because there was no other choice. He was in pain, hungry, tired, agitated, and a dozen other things he couldn’t name. Was this… was this his human side peeking though? The newness of sensations and emotions was weird and overwrought. It was like being turned into a vampire all over again, except in reverse. But at least as a vampire, his body would fucking  _heal._

“About Caroline,” Tyler began, standing to one side. Damon picked up a pen from the nearby desk and started tapping it, pretending not to notice the wereboy’s struggle for composure. “How bad did you see her get hurt?”

Damon glanced away, and even with her mother and husband standing before him, he couldn’t sugarcoat it. “Pretty bad.”

There was a deafening moment of silence where no one knew what to say.

Bonnie finally broke it, “Jeremy is going to be another issue.”

“Right,” Liz exhaled, rubbing her forehead like there was a headache coming on. “What is it with this town?”

It was a rhetorical question, but Bonnie gave a mirthless smile. “There’s a bed of paranormal activity because of that comet in 1864. It brought out a heightened level of power and imbalance that attracts anything that doesn’t run by the normal human rules. Vampires, werewolves, witches – there’s a source of magic here that’s like few others. Some people call this town a hellmouth.” 

Damon rolled his eyes at the Supernatural Encyclopedia on Legs. “A hellmouth? Yeah, that isn’t a little dramatic-sounding at all.” 

Liz straightened up. “Fine. This is what we’re gonna do, then. We’ll split up. Look for anything suspicious. Check out high profile places where there are a lot of potential victims. Let’s go where the kids gather.  _The Grill_ , the lake, the high school—”

“There’s a party down on East Lassiter Street,” Tyler cut in. “I overheard one of the cheerleaders talking about it.” 

“Aren’t you a little old to be creeping around cheerleaders?” Damon quipped.

Tyler threw back a biting smile. “Caroline didn’t mind it with me, back when she was a cheerleader.”

“She didn’t mind it with me, either,” Damon pointed out, enjoying himself.

That got little Cujo’s temper flaring, but Bonnie stepped in between before Tyler could advance. “Enough,” she warned. “Now is not the time, guys.”

In retrospect, she’d probably just saved Damon’s ass. Werewolf versus vampire strength was interesting; werewolf versus beat-up human strength was just carnage, and Damon didn’t like carnage much, at least when he was on the receiving end.

Damon lifted his hands in mock surrender. “We can reminisce about how we both hooked up with Blondie later. Right now, let’s just find her.”

“We should look for Jeremy,” Bonnie said, and she was starting to sound like a broken record, constantly going on about her ex. “He’ll be the easiest to find.”

After a pause, Damon reluctantly nodded in agreement. “He won’t be subtle. Not as a vampire less than a day old. He  _would_  be the easiest to track down.”

Liz absorbed the information. “All right, then. Let’s try to finish this before the bodies start piling up.”

It was about a hundred and sixty years too late for that, though.

* * *

Damon took the party detail with Bonnie, mainly because anyone with a uniform wouldn’t exactly blend in with the crowd. He did a sweep through once, but the noise and all the high-schoolers were getting to his headache, and he had to leave after finding nothing of interest. Once outside, the music pounded with hard bass and he could hear raised voices through the wall. His human hearing  _sucked_. He couldn’t make out any words, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t take a lot of imagination to guess the happenings inside. Been to one drunk teenage party, been to them all. 

For a split second, he thought he saw Stefan – but it wasn’t, of course. Just a guy with the same build and a similar haircut. It’d make no sense for Stefan to be here. Damon had briefly considered the possibility that his brother had already suffered at the hands of the mage – was possibly, maybe, already dead – but even acknowledging that to himself made him feel nauseous. Damon may have acted like he didn’t need anyone, but Stefan was the only family he had left. He assumed Stefan would always be there, annoying and preachy and generally invasive, but still the same brother who had been through hell and back with Damon in a dozen different ways. The Salvatore Brothers. History wouldn’t be the same without them.

And then there was Elena, the girl that stood between them and yet kept them together. 

Damon scrubbed a hand over his face. 

“You all right?” Bonnie asked, appearing at his back.

He waved her concern off like it was misplaced. “Nothing a Jack Daniels can’t fix.”

“This is a sophomore’s party. You’d be lucky to find Light Beer.”

He grunted. “Sense anything?”

Bonnie cast a look about her. “Nothing. No one here is supernatural.”

That included himself, Damon realized dimly. 

Being human – it wasn’t like he remembered. Maybe it was the romantic in him, but he remembered the way sunlight felt, different with a human skin. He remembered breathing and the taste of food as something sacrosanct. Now, it was dulled, nothing exceptional. Nostalgia had left him with memories that held up better than reality. 

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Bonnie asked again.

Damon swiveled his head towards her, affecting a shocked tone, “Why, is that concern I detect in your voice, Bonnie Bennett?”

“Yes, jackass, it is. You look like death warmed over.”

“Is that supposed to be some type of ironic joke? Death warmed over; vampire brought alive.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Get it? Get it?”

She sighed heavily and turned away, defeated at her line of questioning by the use of his impenetrable wall of sarcasm. A second afterwards, Damon felt something bubbling up despite himself. “It isn’t like I remembered.”

“What?”

“Being human. I remember it being cooler.”

Her face softened in sympathy, and that was a sight to behold, seeing sympathy on Bonnie Bennett’s face towards  _him_. Even when they’d been at their closest, Bonnie had always kept her guard up around him. She was a smart girl like that and never really forgot what he was or what he’d done. Maybe that was why he’d always appreciated her scraps of friendship more than what he’d gotten from some of the others? He’d  _earned_  her friendship and respect the hard way, through a myriad of events that had demonstrated that him “being good” wasn’t just a passing fad.

“Is it really so bad?” Bonnie asked softly. “Being human? Isn’t there anything about it that you like?”

He looked towards her, and said, “I’ve been human for a day, and spent it beaten up and hunting for my missing family. This day hasn’t exactly been a good pool to sample from.”

For a moment, Bonnie looked like she’d offer him some sort of token platitude, like,  _it’s going to be all right_  or  _it isn’t all bad_ , and he would have hated that, hated it because it was utter bullshit and she knew it. She knew better than most what this town could destroy; she knew it because this town had taken away from her just as much as it had taken away from him. 

Instead, she opened her mouth and said, “Hey, at least you got awesome company.”

Damon threw her an appreciative smirk. “Always obliged, Glinda.”

* * *

They'd been sitting alone in the backyard for a while before any of the kids began to wander back towards them. A few of the jocks walked past the open door but didn't exit or attempt to make conversation with Damon or Bonnie, granting them the illusion of solitude that she appreciated. This party had teenage hormones and bright lights and loud music – things, Damon assured her, that would attract the restless vampire in Jeremy. That didn’t mean she actually wanted to be here. 

God, the days of her partying in these types of things were so far over, she could barely remember them anymore. When had she gotten so old? When had she reached a point where her hanging out in solitude with Damon felt more comfortable than her venturing inside where there was plenty of music, drinks and “fun”?

She was 24 years old, but she felt like an old maid sometimes, and certainly an older soul than she looked. She supposed that was the drawback to growing up overnight – that night that Grams died. She’d gone from a carefree sophomore to a responsible adult in a blink of an eye, and the years since had only made her feel older. There were benefits to being mature beyond one’s age, but sometimes Bonnie felt like she’d missed a chunk of her life without even realizing it.

“I need coffee,” Damon told her. He rubbed his eyes and looked, to be frank, like a freshman the morning after his first kegger party. Strung-out, sickly pale, and bone-tired. “C’mon, isn’t there a diner around the corner?”

She glanced around, hesitating, then nodded. She could do with a pick-me-up, too. 

They walked in silence for the short trip to the diner. At the door, a waitress greeted them and started leading Damon towards a corner booth, but Bonnie hesitated, pointing to the little in-let that led to the restrooms in the back. Damon nodded and she left, turning the corner. But before she could reach the little girl’s room, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. 

There was something nearby; Bonnie could sense it. Before she could piece it together, a hand clamped over her mouth and she was pulled backwards against a hard chest. 

“We need to talk,” Jeremy said into her ear, huskily.

The sudden rush of fear and adrenaline swept through her as he forced her out into the dark alley behind the restaurant. The large metal door slammed shut behind them. The back lane smelled of rotten food and piling garbage, and he swung her around and pushed against the opposite brick wall.

She choked out his name, and she hated the way it came out, terrified and breathless, but one look at him had alarm bells screaming in her head. Jeremy had always been cute; the natural looks of the boy next door. She’d loved that about him, and had never really seen him get aggressive unless one of his loved ones had been threatened. Now, it was like looking into a bizarro-world version of him. His eyes were hooded with sublime aggression; she could barely recognize him. 

“Bonnie,” he said, in something akin to shock, yet a mockery of the emotion as well. “Wasn’t expecting you to be in town.”

“I’m here to help,” came the rushed response. His eyes bore none of the familiarity she had come to know from him, especially after she had been with him for nearly two years. “Jeremy, calm down.”

“Don’t I look calm?”

He looked  _sadistic_. Bonnie stiffened, and then decided to give him one opportunity to do this the easy way. Just one before she’d take matters into her own hands like the witch she was. 

“Jeremy,” she said, and there was a hard warning in her voice. “Let me go.”

But then Jeremy’s mouth was moving roughly over hers. Shock swallowed her ability to think, all thought functions ceasing at the very first contact. His tongue passed her lips, his right hand already clawing under her shirt. He fisted the other hand around her curls, holding her still while he practically devoured her mouth. Bonnie didn't know how to respond; couldn't think, beyond the adrenaline. His kisses had never been like this, and her hands fisted against his chest to push him off. 

There was the sound of glass breaking, and Jeremy abruptly broke contact. Bonnie was shocked to discover Damon standing behind him, with what looked like a broken bottle in his hands. Jeremy’s back was soaked in the rank smell of beer, and bits of glass dug into his neck. Jeremy shrugged it off like it was a splinter, then whirled on Damon with a speed too fast to follow.

The next thing Bonnie knew, she was released and Jeremy had thrown Damon against the opposite wall with enough impact that  _she_  winced in sympathy. Damon crashed to the ground like a ton of bricks, coughing up blood. 

“Damon, Damon, Damon,” Jeremy taunted. “It’s not nice for you to interrupt a reunion like that.”

“A reunion?” Damon guffawed. “Man, take it from one who knows. When a girl isn’t interested, pushing her up against a wall and kissing her senseless  _isn’t_ gonna change her mind. I learned that one the hard way.”

Bonnie finally remembered herself again. Using Damon’s struggle as a distraction, she concentrated, and then Jeremy was wincing, legs caving under him as he clutched his head in pain. 

“Don’t fight it, Jeremy,” she pleaded, as she popped blood vessel after blood vessel in his brain. “This is for your own good. We’re here to help.”

He screamed as the aneurisms took over, finally collapsing into an unconscious pile on the floor. For a long beat afterwards, she stared at his form, shocked and rendered speechless. It had all happened so fast. She could still feel her mouth bruised from his assaulting kiss, and his grip on her forearms was probably going to leave marks behind. Her heart beat erratically. 

It was true, then. He had switched it off.

Damon groaned, and Bonnie snapped out of her paralysis. She rushed towards his side, helping him up. His head was bleeding, and he probably had a concussion from the impact against the wall. 

“You shouldn’t have rushed in like that,” she told him. “I could have handled it by myself.”

He threw her an incredulous look. “Yeah, it looked like you were handling it just fine when I found you two.”

Flushing, Bonnie said, “He caught me off-guard, but I am more than capable of holding my own against a vampire. Right now, you can’t say the same.”

She could tell he wanted to protest that, but his legs buckled under him and he landed back on the ground, proving her point. He managed to pull himself upright, somehow, breathing slowly. He was weak and injured yet again.

“Hold still,” she ordered Damon, and then invaded his mind in order to heal him.

By the time she was done, Damon was looking better with color flooding his cheeks again, and his bleeding had stopped. Bonnie, on the other hand, wasn’t doing as well. She braced a hand against the brick wall and attempted to pull herself to her feet, but it was Damon’s turn to catch her.

“Damn it,” she swore, as her nose began to bleed. 

She usually wasn't this weak. What was going on? Was something interfering with her powers?

Damon paused, staring at her for a beat. He looked surprised and disconcerted at the flip of the situation, and then looked back at Jeremy’s fallen body. 

“Don’t worry,” he assured her, lightly. “I got this now.” As he attempted to assess the situation, he turned to her again and said, “Stop me if you heard this one before, but a witch, a vampire and human walk into a bar—”

She glared at him so fiercely that he shut right up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: It Burns Like Frostbite…**

* * *

They relocated Jeremy to the mansion and locked him in the cellar. Bonnie let Damon handle the details of Jeremy’s imprisonment, recovering in the library while Damon set up bags of blood and made sure everything was in order. Her head was a little fuzzy, but her nosebleed had stopped and Bonnie could feel her energy recovering. She still wasn’t sure why she was so weak, but any concern for herself was almost an afterthought.

They had no idea what to do with Jeremy. It wasn’t like with Stefan or Caroline, even Damon. He’d embraced what it meant to be a vampire, and Bonnie had always promised herself that there was only one way to deal with those types of vampires. Her eyes stung with the thought of dealing Jeremy his final fate. She couldn’t think about that, not yet, but in the back of her mind she knew the likelihood of this scenario ending in someone’s death. If it wasn’t Jeremy, then it’d be the death of someone innocent. Innocent people had a habit of getting caught up in these types of situations. Bonnie had seen it too many times before. 

By the time Damon reemerged from the cellar, the sun was rising. “I called Liz. No update on their end, but I told them about Jeremy. Tyler will be by later for vampire-sitting duty, but until then there’s nothing we can do.”

Bonnie nodded. They both looked horrible. They needed to recover some strength.

She rose, slowly. “Got a bedroom I could use?”

“That could be a loaded question.” 

“Damon,” she sighed, and he seemed to get she wasn’t in the mood, and for once, he dropped the lascivious act. He led her up the grand staircase to the room across from his, where she barely had any energy to look around and get a lay of the land. It had a bed, and right in that moment, that was all Bonnie cared about.

“There’s a bathroom attached,” Damon said, “And, oh, yeah, wait—”

He disappeared out the door for a moment, only to come back with some woman’s clothing in his hands. They looked like comfy PJs, but Bonnie hesitated to take them. “Do I want to know whose clothes those are? I do not want to sleep in things left behind by one of your skanky little female admirers, Damon.” 

Damon smirked. “I’ll be sure and tell Elena you said that.”

For a beat, Bonnie didn’t follow, until it dawned on her,  _Oh, yeah._  Elena slept here with Stefan. She colored a little and took the PJs. She toed off her shoes before she realized Damon hadn’t moved an inch. She glanced up. “Do you mind?” she said, gesturing for him to leave so she could undress.

“Not at all,” he replied, smiling. “Please, continue.”

So much for dropping the act.

"You're an ass," she told him, but her voice lacked censure. She left for the bathroom. “When I get out, you better be gone.”

She took a shower and changed into Elena’s comfy PJs, and when she came out into the bedroom, the only trace left behind of Damon was the extra blanket he'd left out for her on the bed. She drew the heavy drapes closed to block out the early morning sun, and then crashed into bed. 

She dreamt horrible things, though. She dreamt about Stefan and Caroline burning alive in a fire, and she dreamt about Jeremy and Elena dying in their old Gilbert house. She dreamt it was too late, and they’d all died, every single one of them – and it was all her fault, of course.

 _“Why?” Elena asked, as blood trickled down from a puncture wound on her neck. “Why couldn’t you save us, Bonnie?”_

* * *

When she awoke, the blades of light filtering through her drapes told her it was still daylight, but a glance at the clock told her it was late in the afternoon, a quarter passed three. She groaned, closing her eyes, giving herself five more minutes to rest before she’d force herself to find out what hellish developments had come about in the few hours she’d been unconscious. 

Someone made a noisy entrance into her room. Her eyes slowly opened and she looked over, only to discover that Damon was crashing onto her mattress with a bounce.

“Morning, sunshine.”

He folded his arms behind his head, and of course his shirt was completely unbuttoned, leaving the long expanse of his chest exposed. Damon had that way about him, lounging next to her with a smirk on his face like he was posing for the cover of a  _Playgirl_  magazine. It didn’t help that he had the toned abdomen of a fuckin’ Greek god.

It was too early in her day to be dealing with this.

“Damon,” she sighed, exasperated. “What are you doing?”

“Getting you up from bed,” he replied, lightly, with an overdramatic waggle of his eyebrow. 

She expelled a breath of annoyance in order to cover for her heightened awareness, and told him to go away. Flopping back onto the mattress, she rolled her back to him so she could maintain the pretense that his presence beside her was nothing but an annoyance. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d gotten what he’d wanted out of this ploy.

It pissed her off that it was working, even partially. The image of his muscled abdomen burned in her mind's eye. It  _wasn’t_  that she had a crush on Damon. She’d thought of him as nothing more than a friend. They had this weird give-and-take relationship, sparring verbally like old enemies or maybe ex-lovers, but any flirtation that occurred between them was inherently harmless because Damon Salvatore would flirt with growing grass. Plus, he was  _obsessed_  with Elena. 

She didn’t see him as anyone she wanted to date or be in a relationship with, but she  _had_  thought about what it would be like to be with him. What hot-blooded female wouldn't? A woman either had to be blind or not into guys if she didn't at least think about Damon that way, at least once. He was the embodiment of every woman's fantasy of the bad boy. 

And damn the man, he was all too aware of that fact.

“Wakey, wakey, witchy,” he singsonged.

Bonnie groaned. He did that thing he did sometimes, where he invaded her personal space like he had a right to it. She could feel him shift to hover over her shoulders. Usually, she could handle it. Usually, however, meant it was nothing more than him hovering over her shoulders as she read from a book, or he would brush up against her sides when they sat side-by-side; maybe he would even lean over her lap to reach for something he could have easily gotten another way. Bonnie could normally take it all with stride. Right now, she was just too damn tired, and she needed to be more alert before she could begin playing Damon’s favorite game. 

“Do you mind?” she told him, expressing her annoyance through the sheer bitchiness of her tone. “At some point, the behavior stops being sexy, and starts being creepy.”

“You think I’m sexy?”

She groaned. “Did you fail the English language? I’m calling you creepy.”

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”

“Methinks the gentlemen has forgotten that human beings have bad breath in the morning. Your breath is gross, Damon. Go brush your teeth.”

“Ouch. Someone is a grumpy pants when waking up.”

“Waking up next to you will do that to me.”

“Sweetheart, waking up next to me has made  _plenty_  of women happy.”

She turned around, locking eyes with him, and said in her most challenging voice, “I am not  _them_.”

His eyebrows rose, but he didn’t seem offended. Damn it, he looked amused. She could fry his ass with the power of her mind, and he found her  _amusing_. She forced herself to take a calming breath, closed her eyes, and waited patiently for Damon to leave the bed. 

He finally got the message, and she felt the bed shift under his weight as he climbed off. 

“Get up,” he instructed, and his voice was suddenly no-nonsense. “There’s no rest for the wicked, which means in turn there’s no rest for you. We got a lot to deal with today.”

After he left, Bonnie silently mused that the mattress space beside her was left with his warm impression. A human body, with human warmth. It was weird when she was so used to Damon's cold touch. She closed her eyes, letting herself sleep in another five minutes, and instead slipped into slumber for at least another thirty, dreaming. Except this time, she dreamt pleasant dreams. There was Damon's scent, and this time  _she_  was in  _his_  bed. She didn't mind it so much, in her dream. 

Not that she'd ever admit that to Damon, not even under the threat of torture.

* * *

It was four-thirty in the afternoon, but it felt like nine in the morning.

She came down to find Tyler in the living room, dressed in civilian clothes this time. Wearing a pair of jeans, and a brown leather jacket shrugged over a dark t-shirt, he looked more like the guy she knew back in high school, before he’d become the Sheriff’s right hand man. He’d changed so much since then, mostly because of Caroline and his werewolf curse. But responsible Deputy Tyler Lockwood? Bonnie would never have called it when they’d done Career Day back in high school.

He was taking a drink from Damon’s stock of brandy, and though it was a little early in the day for that, she decided not to comment on it. His wife was missing; the guy deserved a drink or two.

“What’s the plan?” he asked her as a way of greeting.

She had no idea. “We’re working on it. I think I might try another locator spell, this time stronger. I’ll need to stop by a store and pick up a few ingredients.”

“You need a lift?”

Bonnie smelled something good cooking in the kitchen, and said distractedly, “Got a truck out front. Thanks, anyway.”

She started walking towards the kitchen, when Tyler stopped her.

“Hey, Bonnie,” he paused, awkwardly shifting his gait from left foot to right. “I know it can’t be fun, being dragged back into our messes again. I know we got a better shot at getting Caroline back safe and sound with you on our side, so… thanks.” 

She paused; it was weird being given a word of thanks when it felt like she hadn’t done much. “Yeah, no problem. I’m always here to help, Tyler.”

“Except, of course, for the majority of the last six years,” Damon cut into the moment, marching out of the kitchen, “when she conveniently wasn’t around.” 

He set down a plate of pasta, freshly cooked and steaming, while Bonnie silently fumed at him. 

“Eat up,” he instructed her, like she was a child. “We need you at your best and witchiest.”

He left them behind, striding towards the cellar door, and Bonnie tried to brush off his comment like it didn’t matter to her. Tyler went back to studying the different brands of alcohol nearby, and Bonnie reluctantly sat down at the table. The food smelled good, but for a moment, Bonnie resented that Damon had cooked it for her. He was an ass. Why did he keep making those digs at her? She left so many years ago, and she’d never heard more than the standard teasing from him. His latest comments regarding her departure seemed to be laced with a little more venom, though. What was his problem? She was here, wasn’t she? When it mattered, she came.

She took the fork and tasted the pasta, and damn it, it  _was_  good.

* * *

She did her errands and came back to the Salvatore mansion by seven in the evening, just before the sunset. Tyler and Damon were both apparently downstairs in the cellar, probably trying to wring information from Jeremy. Bonnie hesitated at the top of the stairs, wondering if she should join them. The incident from the previous night had thrown her. She didn’t want to endure more of Jeremy's company if she could avoid it.

She got the ingredients out, and went about setting up her spell. She lowered the lights, lit a few candles, and drew a pentagram on Damon’s polished cherry-wood floors – in chalk, of course, but she knew that’d irritate him a little. When she set the other items of her spell on the center of the floor, including a map of the town, she took a deep breath and began.

It was a standard locator spell, with a boost. Whoever had dropped a net over the town – and Bonnie refused to let her mind wander to the possibility of her mother – hadn’t anticipated someone as powerful and knowledgeable as Bonnie. She’d been too drained yesterday, but today with the right ingredients, she was hoping she could pull off a spell that told her exactly where her missing friends were.

It took a while. The interference with the spell was strong, but Bonnie proved stronger. No less than five minutes later, she was straining and sweating, and a small trickle of blood was working down her nose, but Bonnie had a flash of insight. She couldn’t spot Stefan, but Caroline and Elena were both together – somewhere dark, somewhere where the walls were…

Bonnie snapped her eyes open.

Of course. The Tomb. She should have known.

She got up and abandoned her belongings, quickly making her way towards the guys. She knew time was of the essence, and they needed to move quickly if they were to get to Elena and Caroline before anything happened to them. By the time she was downstairs, nearing the cellar, she realized that she’d been mistaken and neither Damon nor Tyler were down here. 

They must have gone out, instead. 

She stopped short, realizing the only person left down here was the person she was trying the hardest to avoid. She attempted to be silent as a mouse as she turned to leave, but Jeremy’s voice rang out, stopping her cold. “No use in tiptoeing, Bonnie. Vampire hearing, remember?”

She steadied herself with a long exhale and turned around. She walked the short distance to the cellar door, where the small rectangular window gave her a view of Jeremy’s accommodations. He was sitting on the dirty ground, with his back braced against the far wall, and there were a few empty bags of blood resting near his feet. His hands rested in his laps, and the dark bangs of his hair hooded his eyes until he looked up at her. He almost looked like the same old Jeremy that used to climb up the side of a tree in order to sneak into her bedroom when her father was home.

Then he smiled, and that smile – that smile was entirely unfamiliar.

“What are you doing back in town, Bonnie?” he asked, curiously, like he’d been wondering about that question all day long. “After all this time, what got you back to the place you swore you’d never—”

“I never swore anything,” Bonnie cut in. “I just had to leave.”

“But now you’re back again,” he mused, and he leaned forward. “I’d like to think it was for little-old-me, but we both know that isn’t true. What was it, then?”

Bonnie paused. “You don’t know me half as well as you think. I would have come for you, and you alone, if I’d known you’d lost your life.”

Jeremy shook his head. “That’s not what I’m doubting, but I was kinda hoping it’d take a little less than my outright death to get you here.”

Memories floated to the surface, of a conversation that took place over half a decade ago.  _“You can’t just leave, Bonnie. This town needs you. I need you. You can’t just leave.”_  

But she had; she’d left behind Mystic Falls without a backwards glance, and in the years that had followed after, she knew Jeremy’s resentment of her decision had only grown. She studied him in that dark little corner of the cellar, and she knew this was a pointless conversation. Bonnie couldn’t make herself turn away. 

Once upon a time, she could have asked anything of Jeremy and she knew he would have done it, no questions asked. He’d always had this blind sort of faith in her that made her feel whole and special, and she wasn’t sure when she’d earned that trust, but it had been a saving grace in some of her darkest hours. Now, it was sickening to realize she couldn’t ask him for a single thing.

That didn’t stop her from trying. 

“Jeremy, don’t do this. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

“Is this the part where you beg me?” he goaded, with a dark laugh. “Try and reach for my humanity? Let me save you the trouble. There is none.”

“Why?” she demanded, because she couldn’t understand why he’d choose this. Her voice broke a little. “God, Jeremy, just tell me why.”

He simply shrugged. “Why not?”

The cold air of the damp cellar chased goose-bumps across her skin, but the truth was, nothing was as chilling as his response.  _Why not?_  Like it was simple answer to a simple question, one that barely required thought. Her eyes watered, but Bonnie blinked back the tears. She wouldn’t let him see her face crumble, but she wouldn’t give up on him either. 

She turned away, before Jeremy called to her one last time. “What?” she demanded, bracing herself for another barb. Her back was ramrod straight, and she refused to turn around to look at him.

“Don’t you wanna know what Stefan is telling me?”

Curiosity got the better of her, and she turned back around, despite herself. “What?”

“Stefan,” Jeremy repeated, and he lifted off the ground. He brushed away some dirt on his jeans, and shrugged. “He’s been bitching in my ear all damn day.”

Confused, Bonnie stared for a beat. The cellar was empty, and there was – oh. Oh, god. Realization dawned on her with a wave a sickness, and Bonnie took an involuntary step back. No.  _God, no._  This had to be a joke.

Jeremy’s smile only grew. “Yep, that’s right. I see dead people, and guess what?”

His connection with the hereafter worked in mysterious ways, but if he was communicating with Stefan, that meant only one thing.  _Stefan was dead._  And Jeremy couldn't be implying the standard vampire-dead, but  _dead_ -dead.

“You’re lying,” she breathed.

“Am I? He’s been desperately trying to relay a message to you. Do you want to hear it?”

She broke away, rushing for the nearest exit because she didn’t want to hear what Jeremy had to say. It was a taunt. A way to throw her off. She couldn’t trust a thing he had to say, and claiming that one of her oldest friends was dead was a great way to do that. 

When she got back up to the upper level, Damon and Tyler were walking through the front door.

“What is it?” Damon asked, after just one glance at her pale face. He quickly looked to the pathway she’d emerged from, towards the cellar, and realized the source of her anxiety. “What did he say to you?”

She stared at him, and it felt like the walls were closing in on her when faced with this horrible prospect. She couldn’t do it.  _God, please let it be just a ploy._ Damon – she was not relaying the news of his brother’s demise to him. Her stomach caved in like it was a bottomless pit, and she felt sick.

 _It’s a lie,_  she told herself.

“Bonnie?” Tyler asked, with some concern lacing his voice. 

She said the first thing that came to mind. “I know where the others are.”

“Where?”

“The Tomb.”

* * *

Everybody was eager to act on her intel, but Bonnie felt vaguely sick at the bit of information she held back. Tyler went to call the Sheriff, and Bonnie sat in the living room, numb, worrying her lower lip between her teeth and trying not to second-guess herself. No good would come out of telling Damon. If Jeremy was lying, it’d succeed in throwing Damon off his game. The last thing they needed was Damon flying off the handle. And if Jeremy  _wasn’t_  lying… well, they’d learn the truth in time. 

 _“He’s been desperately trying to relay a message to you. Do you want to hear it?”_

Bonnie looked to the basement door, and wondered.

Damon came across the room and started heading downstairs. Bonnie jumped up like a finger-snap and followed after him.

“Can I help you?” Damon asked, tossing a raised eyebrow her way.

Bonnie thought furiously. “I, uh, just need something to do. I hate waiting.”

She needed to think of a way to avoid a confrontation between Jeremy and Damon. But then Damon veered left and started heading down another pathway. He was going to the weapons storage area. Bonnie breathed an internal sigh of relief, and then took it right back again when she saw Damon reaching for a shotgun.

It was time for her to caution some restraint. “Damon, we don’t know enough about the spell that they did to you and Jeremy. We don’t know how powerful they are.”

“We’ll try blowing a hole through their heads, and see if that works,” Damon returned, as he checked to see if the shotgun was loaded. “If it doesn’t, we’ll get creative.”

“I’m not saying we don’t go after them, I’m just saying…” she trailed off, staring at him as he reached for a handful of shells, and all she could think about was Stefan, dead, and Damon’s reactions to the sight of that. 

Her mind immediately jumped to her mother, and Jesus, Bonnie could feel the dread coiling so tight in her stomach, she felt like she was going to throw up right there all over the weaponry. If Stefan truly was dead, and her mother was behind it, Bonnie knew what Damon’s instinctual reaction would be.

“Damon, promise me something. If it is my mother out there, you leave her to me. Promise me you won’t kill her.”

Damon lifted a brow, loading a round into the shotgun. “You think you could do what you  _had_  to, if it came down to it?”

Her lips thinned. “Would I be able to kill my own mother, you mean?”

Damon nodded like they were talking about the weather. “Yeah,  _that_.”

She took a calming breath, slim shoulders shifting under the cotton of her shirt. This was normally where she’d call him an ass, but her little secret was still eating away at her and Bonnie looked away. She gathered herself again, and connected with Damon’s stare with resolve.

“I will do what I need to do, but  _I_  will be the one to handle my mother. Do you understand me?” He offered a shrug like it didn’t matter to him one way or another, then he made to move past her, but Bonnie blocked his path. “I’m serious, Damon. Promise me.”

He held her gaze, and instead of offering another quip, he said in a voice she’d only ever heard him use on Elena: deep and serious, with no bullshit in it whatsoever. “This is going to hurt, Bonnie. It isn’t going to be like the other times. This is your mother, and she’s threatening the lives of people you love. I could be doing you a favor if I took care of her.”

She flinched, and looked away. Her eyes watered. Damon was witnessing her at her weakest, and she should have been better about covering it up. She was too run down to cover it up. 

“I’ll handle it,” she insisted. “I’ll handle it.”

After a beat, he nodded. “All right. Fine. We’ll play it your way.”

“I need you to say it. I need you to give me your word, Damon.”

Damon made a face, visibly annoyed, but she knew it was really because he was still struggling with the decision. His word was the one thing that Bonnie knew he’d never broken, not once, not ever. It harked back to his old days where words like honor and chivalry weren’t just punch lines in a joke. Damon had watched over the Bennett family for over a century and a half because he’d once given his word to Emily Bennett. Bonnie was counting on that same sense of honor now. 

He scrubbed a hand through his hair, and then finally, when Bonnie felt like she was going to faint from holding her breath for so damn long, he released a harsh exhale and nodded. 

“Fine, I give you my word,” Damon promised. “I won’t kill your mother.”

But as Damon strode away, weapon in hand, Bonnie thought of Stefan and the bone-deep connection between the two brothers, who’d been through thick and thin and everything in between. If anything had happened to Stefan, she wondered if Damon’s unbreakable word was going to be enough, this time around. 

Somehow, she doubted it.

* * *

The forest was dark and just as ominous as Bonnie remembered it being. What made it worse was the heavy rain, rendering even the thick leaves and vines as ineffectual protection against the deluge. Her hair matted against her face, and Bonnie pushed the tangled locks out of her eyes as they trudged towards to the familiar outcropping where the tomb lay. She walked in the back with Liz Forbes, and Tyler and Damon led the way, each with a loaded shotgun. Just before the entrance to the tombs, Damon stopped and swung around. 

He nodded towards Bonnie. “Ladies, first.”

Bonnie approached the entrance with trepidation in every step, but she tried not to let it show. Liz withdrew her holstered gun, a few steps behind her. Bonnie scanned the place, and then stepped in through a crack in the walls that was barely big enough for a person to slid through, sideways. The antechamber was just as she had left it, the last time. The entrance to the cave, the one that marked the point-of-no-return for vampires, was covered by the large block of stone. It took all four of them to move it, when in previous years she’d always had a vampire handy (usually Damon) to help with such menial tasks. She exchanged a look with Damon, eyes locking from across each other, and she could tell he was thinking the same thing.

“Last time I was here,” he reminisced in faux-nostalgia, “crossing this threshold would have kept me locked in forever.”

Bonnie’s eyes drifted to the spot where she and Grams had once communed together; the same spell that had claimed her grandmother’s life later that same night. The memory stung with a rawness that belied its age, even after all these years. This goddamn place was the bane of her existence. First, her Grams. Now, it potentially spelled the doom of another one of her family members. She prayed her own instincts on this were wrong. She prayed her mother wasn’t behind this all. 

Bonnie took a bracing breath and walked into the tomb first. The cavern was a series of twists and turns, but before long, Bonnie could smell magic in the air, as well as hearing the distant sounds of someone moving. The others kept quiet behind her as they kept pace, but Bonnie had her attention in front of her.

A few drips of water from her rain-soaked hair trailed down into her eyes, and she brushed them away in frustration. Her breathing was labored. Her heart beat a mile a minute, and the only thing she could think, could hope for, was  _please, don’t let it be her. Let Stefan be safe. Let them all be safe._

But she turned the last corner, and a familiar voice rang out, greeting her as if Bonnie had been expected all along. “Hello, Bonnie.”

A treacherous stillness washed over her. 

She closed her eyes briefly, then looked up, finding Bethany Bennett, her mother. 

The second that stretched out afterwards seemed endless. It had been nearly 15 years since she’d last seen her mother, and the woman looked exactly the same. Same flawless skin, the same dark eyes and long hair that Bonnie herself had inherited; when Bonnie had been younger, she’d thought her mother one of the most beautiful women in the world. Bethany was still gorgeous, even after all these years.

Beyond her mother stood the tall warlock that had locked horns with Bonnie a day prior, the one named Ethan. There were a series of candles laid along the walls, and her mother held a large grimoire in her hands. They were in the middle of casting a spell.

“Mom,” she breathed, feeling shaken to the core.

Caroline shouted from some unseen distance, “Don’t do it, Bonnie! It’s a trap!” 

“Go!” Elena’s voice joined hers. “Run! Get away from here!”

Stefan’s voice was conspicuously absent.

Bonnie felt like she was caught in molasses, too slow to respond, unable to move. Yes, it was like she was a mere spectator in the events unfolding around her. She was paralyzed by the presence of her mother, and she had to snap out of it, she knew that, but knowing it and doing it were two different things. She could see another passageway behind her mother, presumably where her oldest friends were being held, but she had eyes only for her mother. 

Bethany looked to the others in Bonnie's group, coming to settle on Liz. “Sherriff, you look well.”

“Bethany,” Liz returned, trading a look with Bonnie that relayed a message:  _later on, there’d be a talk._  “Didn’t expect to see you here, after all these years.”

Bethany looked back at the tall warlock behind her, and nodded. Ethan disappeared into the back passageway towards the girls.

Somewhere over her shoulder, Tyler advanced. “Caroline!” he shouted, and received an answering cry from the distance. He turned his eyes on Bonnie’s mother. “What are you doing to her?”

“Mom,” Bonnie cut in, finally finding her voice. “What are you doing here?”

Her mother paused, and visibly wavered. “I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances. You couldn’t be a few days later, could you? I never wanted you involved in this.” Bonnie took a step forward, but her mother stopped her with a raised hand. “Don’t! Come one step closer without my permission, and there’ll be consequences.”

Bonnie’s mouth tightened, then she reached out with her senses. There was something, a barrier of some sort. She didn’t know what it did.

“Stay back,” Bonnie advised the others behind her. “There’s some sort of spell.”

“Of course there is,” Damon drawled.

Bonnie didn’t want him getting trigger-happy, and she definitely didn’t want her mom using magic. That’d force Bonnie’s hand, and she needed to stay calm. Desperately, Bonnie knew, they  _all_  needed to stay calm otherwise this would turn into a bloodbath. 

“I don’t want any trouble," Bonnie said. "Release my friends, undo whatever magic you’ve done, and we can all leave this place peacefully.”

Her mother flinched, and looked away. Then looked back. “This is a path I have been on since I was younger than you. Your Grams would have understood. I need to end this, Bonnie. You don’t understand.”

“Help me understand!” Bonnie cried. Fifteen years, she hadn’t seen this woman, and now here she was, standing before her with a Pagan symbol for destruction carved on the ground between them. This was all so fucking surreal. “Why did you kidnap my friends?”

“Friends?” Bethany repeated, and her voice turned appalled. “They’re vampires! There is no being friends with their kind.”

“Wow,” Damon muttered. “So the judginess is genetic, then?”

Bonnie ignored him. “What are you trying to do?”

Bethany gathered up a small stone into her bag, the same red stone that Damon had drawn a sketch of. “I’m trying to create a free Mystic Falls. Don’t you understand, Bonnie? This town has seen enough bloodshed because of vampires. I am trying to undo that damage now, here, where it all began.”

“I don’t understand,” Bonnie replied, desperately.  _Help me understand._

“You don’t need to,” her mother replied. “Leave. Please, just leave.”

Bonnie grit her teeth, preparing herself to draw on magic. “Give me my friends.”

“Bethany,” Ethan called, returning. “We need to end this.”

“No,” her mother returned, stubbornly. “I told you, my child stays out of this.”

Unbidden, a sliver of relief shot threw her; maybe her mother had her reasons? Maybe her mother wasn’t all bad? There was no proof that Stefan was hurt. There had to be a way out of this. She clung to the shred of hope, but then Damon was pushing her aside, coming to the front of the group.

“All right,” he said, leveling his shotgun at Bethany, “enough of this. Let’s just get to the carnage, or you guys release our people. Either, or. Pick your poison.”

Bethany stared head-on at the barrel of his shotgun, and then the veneer of vulnerability in her eyes vanished. She looked at Damon with unadulterated hatred, the type that changed her features entirely. 

“We leave first,” her mother declared, hard and unyielding. “Then you can retrieve your people.”

“How do we know they’re still alive and unharmed?” Damon demanded.

Bethany made a noncommittal noise. “You don’t, but do you really have a choice? We’ll take the back exit. You’ll find the others in the back room in the passageway behind us.”

“What back exit?” Damon demanded. “I’ve studied the layout of this place for a hundred and sixty years. There is only one exit, and it’s not back there.”

Bethany smiled. She raised her hands, snapped her fingers, and in the distance somewhere an explosion went off. 

The ground shook violently, and Bonnie was thrown to the side into Damon; the cavern walls couldn’t take the blast, and debris went flying everywhere. Bonnie spotted her mother escaping through the back and called out to her. Her mother looked back, briefly, and her face fell into misery. Ethan reached over and tugged her mother through the passageway.

The roof seemed to start caving in on top of them, large boulders and spikes of stone falling here and there, and Damon turned towards her. “Can you do anything about this, Glinda?”

Bonnie huffed out a breath, and concentrated. The ceiling was coming down on them heavy. She stopped Tyler from rushing forward because she could still sense her mother’s barrier in place. 

“Hurry up,” Damon chanted impatiently.

"Let me concentrate.” 

A few seconds later, the falling debris began to slow down. Not by much, but enough. She pushed the barrier to drop and eventually it gave way. Bonnie looked up and shouted for the others to flee, and then the four of them were rushing down the passage where they’d heard Caroline and Elena’s shouts come from. A few large chunks of rock littered the pathway, but Damon deftly led the group and maneuvered them until they came to a fork in the road. 

One end had light streaming from it, so Bonnie slipped past him. “I’ll take this route, you take the other!” 

They separated without a word, time being of the essence. A few seconds later, Bonnie slid to a stop, finding the girls locked behind a cage.  _Thank God!_  She shouted for the others to join her, and then turned back to the cage, coming closer. The dust in the air cleared a little to give Bonnie a better look. Caroline was rising up, but Elena was sitting on the dirt floor, cradling an overturned body in her arms. 

“Look what they did,” Elena whispered, broken and crying, holding onto Stefan for dear life. “Look what they did to him, Bonnie.”

Bonnie froze. Elena had streaks of tears down her face; both girls had blood on their hands, but it didn’t look like it was their own. Stefan was unmoving, splayed out like that, completely boneless. 

Bonnie heard Tyler come in and then the quiet strain of metal as he immediately attempted to pull the bars apart with his werewolf strength. Bonnie felt feverishly cold. Before she could recover, Damon was coming in through the back, calling out for everyone to hurry. Even still, even with all the chaos of falling boulders and a hellish rescue, he stopped, cold. 

Bonnie felt him stiffen, looking into the cage. She knew. She knew it down to her very bones, and she couldn’t make herself look at Damon as the same realization dawned on him. 

“No,” Damon said, in a low whisper of denial. “ _No._ ”

“Look what they did,” Elena repeated mindlessly, sobbing. She clung to Stefan’s ashen body in desperation. “They've killed him.”

  



	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: _Turning of the Tide..._**

  
The unusual storm front darkened the skies as they made their way back to the mansion. Damon took the body with them, riding in the back of Bonnie’s truck with his brother’s solid form splayed out before him. He didn’t give a damn about the thundering weather. He sat back there, drenched and shivering under the pouring rain, staring at the pale face of Stefan as a slow and dizzying rage set in. Stefan had died a vampire, face ashen white and body stiff. They’d had to pry it loose from Elena’s clutches, who only seemed to be recovering from her hysteria slowly, through sheer force of will. The group formed into a solemn entourage the entire trip back.

When they arrived at the mansion, Tyler helped Damon unload the body, but Damon refused to bring it into the house where Elena would do nothing but stare at it all day. Grief stung, and Damon pushed it down. He had too much to deal with; too much to take care of. 

Bonnie and Elena followed them into the garage where Damon covered up Stefan’s body with a blanket. “We’ll bury him in the morning,” he said, no-nonsense, like they were talking about any one of the dozen other bodies he’d disposed of over the years. “There’s an empty plot in the back greens. It’ll do.”

Elena turned away, warning off Bonnie’s comfort when it looked like the witch was going to follow after. Tyler stood awkwardly, then turned towards the noise of Caroline and her mother walking through the side door. Caroline wasn’t hurt, but there was blood all over her. Stefan’s blood. Damon felt his control slipping, but forced it back into place. His hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“Get some rest,” he ordered to Caroline. He ran a hand through his sopping wet hair, shaking off droplets of water that fell onto his shoulders. “Go home. Clean up. Stay alert in case someone tries anything, and be back here in the morning.”

Caroline looked like she wanted to protest, but Tyler stepped in front and pulled her into a hug, and Caroline just collapsed into his arms like there was nothing holding her up. Her face crumbled, and over Tyler’s shoulders, Caroline’s eyes honed in on the draped blanket. She numbly nodded, and left a second later with her family. 

Bonnie and Damon were left alone. 

“Damon,” she began. “I’m sorr—”

“Don’t,” he warned, hard-edged. “Isn’t your fault your mother’s a psychopathic bitch that needs to die.”

Bonnie paled, but before she could remind him of the promise he’d given her just a few hours earlier, Damon was striding away. Bonnie didn't follow after him.  _Smart girl._  He’d given his word not to kill her mother, but that was before. That was before. Damon had no intentions of letting Bethany Bennett survive another twenty-four hours. It didn’t matter that it would almost certainly spell his death. He was just a man now, nothing stronger than the average human being, but he knew how to use a shotgun and he knew how to catch people by surprise. He could do it. If he took the bitch out, he didn’t care what happened to himself.

The house seemed claustrophobic, all of a sudden. Centuries of history and while half of that he had spent elsewhere, this house was still filled with memories. The library was a disaster, remnants of the abduction from two days ago. The long mahogany halls echoed with his stride, and Damon veered course to the outlet that led him back to the weapons cache. He had things to collect.

“Damon,” Elena stopped him. Her silhouette framed the doorway and she stepped into the light cast off by the hallway. “Don’t do it. I know you, and I know what you’re thinking right now. Stefan wouldn’t have wanted that. Don’t do it.”

She looked like death warmed over, her face nearly as pale as a vampire’s. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her damp hair a complete disarray from the normal picture-perfect style. There was mud all over her legs, and blood. Again, with Stefan’s blood. 

“You’re just human now,” she tried to reason.

Damon gave her a dark smirk. “Yeah, but I still have more experience than those two hocus-pocus bitches combined. Smart monies on me.”

Elena’s eyes watered, and before he knew it, she was across the room and sobbing into his chest, muttering something he almost couldn’t make out. It sounded like,  _can’t lose both of you_ , and his chest caved in under the sucker punch of that declaration. His arms drew around her as her tiny body wracked with grief. Years back, in another lifetime, he’d have taken advantage of this moment. He’d have used this moment of fragility to gain just another piece of Elena’s heart, but… it was hollow now. It would be nothing more than a hollow victory. Not like this. Not at the expense of his brother.

Grief intruded, and Damon swallowed a dry lump in his throat. Stefan was the better man, the better vampire. A decade ago, that type of declaration would have secretly dug into Damon’s skin like a thorn, sharp and poisonous. It was nothing more than the truth, though. The wrong brother had died. It should have been Damon, dead. It should have been Stefan holding Elena in this room while she wept. It should have been all completely different.

He offered Elena what measure of comfort he could, but a swift tide of guilt overtook him. A dark thought occurred to him: Damon could finally get what he’d been chasing after for nearly a decade, couldn’t he? Elena, all to himself. No Stefan, no vampire curse. Ironic that this realization came now, here, when things could have aligned perfectly. Kismet, him and Elena. 

It felt like he was walking all over Stefan’s grave.

It made Damon sick to his stomach.

Bonnie walked in on them, like that. Elena looked up, the damp corner of his shoulder stained with her tears. Bonnie gave a pained look, backtracking a few steps with a silent apology for the intrusion. Damon watched as she deviated course, and then took the fastest route towards Jeremy’s little cellar.

* * *

Bonnie took the turn, pausing only briefly to look back at the sight she had left behind. Elena and Damon – a part of her knew what she’d seen wasn’t only grief over Stefan. Damon had that look in his eyes, like he was haunted by his conflicting emotions. He only got that way around Elena, and it seemed six years away hadn’t changed that. Bonnie shook her head and doubled her pace. 

Bonnie had never gotten in the middle of the strange love triangle between Elena and the two Salvatore brothers, and she wasn’t about to start now that there was only one of them left behind. The matters of unrequited love were far down on her list of priorities. 

Coming to the last bend in the hallway, Bonnie walked up to the cellar door. “Jeremy.”

The vampire in question looked up, and flashed a lazy smile. “So I see everybody’s finally seen the truth.” He sniffed the air. “You smell like dead Stefan.”

She curled her hands into fists, forcing herself to stay calm. With a glance back down the hallway, she thought of Elena and Damon, and everything they’d lost today. What her mother had taken from them. It wouldn’t be in vain. Stefan had been trying to give her a message, and Bonnie was going to find out exactly what that was.

With decisiveness, she unlocked the heavy bolt on the door. She flung open the door with the power of her mind, and there was a metal clang as it threw up against the wall. Bonnie walked in. Jeremy raised an eyebrow, but he seemed amused more than intimidated by the small demonstration of her power. That needed to change. He should have known better than anyone just how powerful she got when pissed off.

“Tell me what Stefan wanted me to know.”

Jeremy’s smile only grew. “Sure thing. Just one caveat: I go free.”

Bonnie lifted a brow.

“I go free,” Jeremy repeated, and the smirk fell away. “You’ve got bigger fish to fry than me, Bonnie. I am not your enemy. I am not anybody’s enemy. I just wanted to have a good time. But your mom?” Jeremy’s eyes darkened. “We both know she’s a little bit more trouble than your average vampire.”

Her mouth felt empty and dry. “You know about my mom?”

“I know a lot of things, mainly because Stefan hasn’t stopped flapping his mouth since he died. He’s more preachy now than he was when he was alive, if you can imagine that.”

“What is he saying?”

“Release me and I'll tell you. That’s how this works. You give your word that you’ll leave me alone, and I’ll tell you everything you need to know to take down your mother. It’s a simple deal, Bonnie. Be smart enough to take it.”

“I can’t make that deal.”

“Why? We’ve made deals with the devil in the past before. It isn’t anything new.”

Revulsion rose in her throat; the last time she’d trusted a vampire outside of her friends, it had been Elijah, who’d betrayed them all. Jenna had died. John Gilbert had died. Stefan had been taken, and it had sparked another year of brutal killings and murdered innocents that culminated in her father’s death. He was just another person caught in the crosshairs of the paranormal turf war. 

Bonnie had promised herself that day, among a dozen other solemn vows, that she would never side with a vampire she didn’t trust. Not even if her life depended on it.

“I can make you talk,” Bonnie warned. She advanced, and there was nothing between them but dirt and five feet of empty space, and Jeremy backed up a little. “You don’t have to tell me, Jeremy. We both know I can invade your mind. So, we’ll do this the easy way or the painful way. It’s up to you.”

Jeremy stared at her. “You don’t have the guts.”

 _Wrong._  Bonnie reached forward and—

“Stop!” Elena’s voice joined the fray, just seconds before Bonnie began her mental assault. “No, Bonnie, don’t!”

Elena rushed into the cellar with Damon on her heels. Damon managed to catch her before she could reach Jeremy. Damon held her back, against her will, probably for her own protection. Jeremy wasn’t to be trusted, but as soon as Bonnie saw her friend’s tear-streaked face, a tide of guilt swept through her. Elena had suffered enough. She didn’t need to witness her now-vamp-brother being tortured. Bonnie immediately backed off.

Jeremy’s attention was riveted on Elena. For the first time since their reunion, Bonnie saw human emotion register on his face. It flittered away faster than a blink of an eye, and then Bonnie was left wondering if she’d imagined it. 

But, Bonnie realized, if anything got through to Jeremy, it  _would_  be the only family he had left in the world.

Jeremy’s face hardened, and he was sneering. “Hey, sis. You look like shit.”

Then again, maybe not.

“Jeremy?” Elena breathed, like she couldn’t believe her eyes. 

Jeremy’s eyes drifted to Damon, who was still holding her back. “Why am I not surprised to see this sight? Man, you didn’t even wait until his body was in the ground before making a move.”

Damon’s eyes darkened, and then he released Elena and stepped forward. “Is this the part where you try to undermine us? Try to find our soft spots? Save your Hannibal Lector-impression for somebody else, newbie. I invented that shit.”

“Soft spots?” Jeremy mocked, then glanced to Elena. “You know Stefan’s spirit is here, right now, in this room.” Elena sucked in a breath, and Jeremy continued quickly, “He has something he wants to tell you, Elena. One personal message before he passes onto the next big fluffy white cloud on the horizon. Do you want to know what it is?” 

For a moment, it looked like Elena believed him, a desperate want in her eyes, but then her face hardened and she straightened up. She seemed to find strength that had previously abandoned her. Elena was like that. Take away everything she loved and deared, and somehow she still stood standing at the end of it all anyway.

“I know what Stefan would want to say to me, Jer,” Elena said in a challenging tone. “I know him better than anyone.”

“Correction,” Jeremy said. “You  _knew_  him better than anyone.”

Elena didn’t so much as flinch, but Bonnie could tell the comment had struck a nerve anyway. Elena turned and left without a backwards’ glance, walking steadfast even when Jeremy broke out with further taunts. “He says he wants you to be happy with Damon! He knew you’d always end up his lover! Don’t feel guilty about it, Elena! It was always gonna end up like thi—”

Damon struck Jeremy with a hard left hook. Jeremy stumbled back, then held a bleeding jaw in one hand and grinned. “What?” he asked in faux-innocence. “Did I hit a soft spot?”

Bonnie stood watch as Damon came precariously close to Jeremy. She was ready to step in, if need be, because despite what Damon thought, he wasn’t invincible anymore and in a fair fight, Jeremy would win nine times out of time. Bonnie supposed her presence here was needed to make sure that if a fight broke out, it wouldn’t be the fair kind. 

“Stefan always got the girl,” Jeremy drawled, straightening to face off against Damon. The two men stood toe-to-toe. “And you always get the leftovers. Must suck that history repeats itself so much with you, huh?”

Damon was barely restraining himself, and she only breathed again when he broke eye contact with Jeremy and abandoned them to the cellar. Bonnie stood quietly for a second. For such a new vampire, Jeremy was inflicting a lot of damage without even lifting a finger and bearing a fang. 

He knew exactly what weaknesses to exploit.

“This isn’t going to end well, Bonnie. You know that.”

She stilled for a moment, holding his gaze, then left without giving him a response. She had a feeling that for all his taunts, he still had a good pulse on the situation.

This wasn’t going to end well for  _anybody._

* * *

The glass was cool under his touch as he poured himself a shot of whiskey. Upstairs, somewhere, Damon knew Elena was trying to collect herself. Downstairs, he knew, Bonnie was trying to collect information. Both would suck at it. Damon tossed a bitter smile into the glass before he drowned the liquid in a gulp. He toasted the memory of his faithful brother with a single shot of alcohol that burned like battery acid down his throat.

The glass shattered against the wall a second later.

“Nice,” Caroline said, wryly, announcing her presence behind him. “I guess that’s better than putting your fist through the wall?”

Damon turned around. “What are you doing here? I thought you and your little wereboy were headed home?”

“I told Tyler to head back here. He’s out front, checking the perimeter.” She stepped closer, her face belying grief. “It didn’t seem right, leaving you guys alone right now. Better in numbers, right?”

Damon grunted, and turned away. “Elena’s upstairs.”

Caroline paused. “This might be the stupidest question in the history of stupid questions, but are you all right?”

Damon grabbed the bottle by the neck and lifted it to his lips. The tug of whiskey hit him with a force he wasn’t used to, but that was just another tally point to mark on the column for why it sucked to be a human. He didn’t know what his tolerance was. Probably a good time to find out. 

“Damon,” Caroline said, sounding a little more persistent. “Don’t do that creepy loner thing you always do. You aren’t alone, you know.”

He pivoted back to her. “I know, Blondie.” 

Somewhere along the way, Caroline had become a part of their fucked up family. Kin. Vampire kin. She had an especially close relationship with Stefan, a weird little BFF thing going on that reminded Damon of Lexie Branson.

“Go on up,” Damon said to her, not unkindly. “Elena needs you more than I do.”

Caroline paused, then turned to leave, only to hesitate again. After a beat, she whirled around and for the second time in so many hours, Damon found his arms full of a tiny female body. Caroline squeezed him in a hug too tight, her vampire strength unintentionally aggressive for his human body. She released him abruptly, and there were tears in her eyes. Before he could respond, she was already speeding up the stairs without a backwards’ glance.

Damon scrubbed a hand through his hair and without even thinking about it, wandered back to the garage, where Stefan’s body was still covered in that shitty little white blanket. The rain was pattering outside, hitting the shingles of his roof with a steady drum. He stood there, just staring. He kept drinking from the bottle. Time passed.

He eventually heard Bonnie head upstairs, then towards Stefan’s bedroom where Elena and Caroline were hauled up. Damon pretended not to notice. The girls would do well together. Damon didn’t know how to offer comfort, so it was good that Elena had company. He couldn’t deal with that responsibility right now. 

 _Stefan always got the girl, and you always get the leftovers._  

There was a sickness in his stomach, building. What was going to happen now? Emotions warred. Guilt, revulsion, grief, anger. Damon didn’t know what to do with it all. Fucking  _humanity_ , with its fucking weaknesses. He should have been angry. He should have shut off his emotions. 

“Stefan,” he muttered, angrily. “You’re a real son of a bitch, you know that?”

He didn’t even know why he was angry at Stefan; only that he suddenly was. That switch. Christ. Once upon a time, Damon would have secretly given _anything_  to be human. Now, he didn’t have the faintest memory why. He wanted that ability to flip a switch and end all of this. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, and then thought,  _screw it._  He needed to get out of this damn house. He needed to get away. 

Damon grabbed car keys off a nearby hook. He ripped the tarp off Stefan’s classic little red Porsche, his baby. He didn’t even bother to open the garage door; he just got behind the wheel, jammed the key in, and revved the engine. A second later the Porsche tore through the garage door, leaving wreckage behind. The damage to the car would be a pretty penny, but Damon only floored the accelerator harder. 

He tore down the drive way. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey off the passenger seat and took a chug, feeling adrenaline fuel him with the haze of misery. He sped up as a treacherous thought solidified, one that would have been insane, irrational, especially after all this time.  _He didn’t want Elena anymore._  He just wanted his brother back. Fuck, god, after all this time, all this energy, the realization struck him hard in the chest just when there were no obstacles left in his way. He didn’t want Elena anymore, not like this. Not ever. He'd trade it all away just to have Stefan up and moving again. 

All Damon's chasing, all these years, and he felt the epiphany sink in like teeth across his flesh. Elena was a dream, and he'd finally woken up. Except instead of reality, there was this nightmare left behind. This aftermath of a world without Stefan, and Damon didn't know who he was without Stefan. Damon Salvatore didn't make sense without Stefan Salvatore. 

It was all too fucking much.

* * *

“What the hell was that?” Bonnie breathed, then rushed to the rain-fogged window with Elena and Caroline. Through the outpouring, Bonnie could barely make out a small red sports-car speeding down the road. The garage door was left in broken shards behind it. “Is that… was that Damon?”

Caroline winced. “I think so.”

They all watched as Tyler came round the front lawn to stare at the damage in horror, the type that the girls could see even from all the way up in the second-story. 

Tyler turned up to them, and yelled in outrage, “That was the fuckin’ Porsche!”

Bonnie grimaced. “What does Damon think he’s doing?” 

Elena looked stricken for a second, and then her shoulders fell. “He wants to be alone right now.”

Bonnie didn’t doubt it, but it was a very bad idea. Even ignoring the real threat of her mother and Ethan, there were other issues that necessitated concern. She knew he’d been drinking; had seen the broken shards of glass in the library, along with the missing bottle of whiskey. And Damon was human. The two didn’t mix well with driving. She turned back to Elena, who looked like a gust of wind could knock her over.

“Elena,” Bonnie said, tentatively. “We can’t leave him out there. You should… you should probably go find him.”

Elena paused, then quietly shook her head. “I can’t. I’m… I can’t.”

A thought struck Bonnie. “If this is about what Jeremy said down there, don’t let it get to you. He was just trying to rile you guys up.”

Caroline looked confused. “What did Jeremy say?” 

“You should go,” Elena said, turning to Bonnie desperately. “Find him. Damon wouldn’t go far.”

Bonnie quirked an eyebrow. The idea of her comforting a distraught Damon Salvatore left her feeling a little adrift. “I don’t think that’s a good idea—”

“I just…” Guilt filled Elena’s eyes to the brim. “I just can’t be around Damon right now, and he needs someone.”

“I don’t want to leave you alone.”

Elena hugged her arms around herself. “Caroline’s here. So is Tyler. I’m not alone.”

“I don’t—”

“Bonnie, just… please, Bonnie?”

 _Why her?_

Bonnie stared, but in that moment, there was nothing in the world that Bonnie would refuse her friend. She nodded, grabbed her jacket off the bed and shrugged it on. “You guys will be all right by yourselves?”

Caroline was shooing her out the door with a wave of her hand. “Go, go! We’ll be fine.” She dropped her voice to a whisper, nodding her head covertly at Elena – or as covert as Caroline got, when she was being as obvious as daylight. “I got this.”

Bonnie hesitated, then after a beat, she left. 

* * *

Bonnie didn’t like speeding through the heavy outpouring of rain, but if she needed to catch up with a fucking  _Porsche_ , she needed to move quickly. Her father’s old rusty bucket of bolts, as he used to call it, was probably better for the terrain than Damon’s Porsche. The patter of rain obscured the road ahead of her, and god, this was dangerous. Both sides of the long stretch of road was bracketed in by a line of trees, and Bonnie breathed steadily. The distant rumble of thunder echoed with a boom, showing no sign of tapering off anytime soon. 

This was ridiculous. Where would Damon have gone? She slowed down the car, and opened up her mystical senses. It was hard getting a read on Damon; vampires normally had supernatural auras, which a talented witch could pick up on like a bloodhound, especially if it was a familiar aura. But Bonnie was still used to thinking of him as a vampire, and he wasn’t. Plus, her powers were being temperamental lately; something was still interfering with her strength. She knew that much now. Realized it could only be her mother, now that everybody knew what Bethany was capable of. 

She breathed in slowly, and refocused. She couldn’t think about her mother. Not now. The devastation and betrayal was something that Bonnie would have to confront, but first she had to deal with the fallout of Stefan’s death.

First, she’d find Damon. Then, she’d take everything from there.

Ten minutes later, Bonnie slipped into the wooded area near the Lockwood estate. She could barely make out anything even with the high beams on. She took the turns slower, well aware that the mud could be a problem. She doubted Damon would be that careful.

Turned out, she was right. There was no sign of Damon’s Porsche, and then all of a sudden Bonnie could make out its wreckage from the road.  _Jesus._  He’d wrapped the small car around a tree. Panic overtook Bonnie as she pulled the truck to a stop and hopped out into the rain. She slid to the muddy stop next to the Damon’s car, finding him knocked out in the driver’s seat. 

He had an ugly slash across his forehead that was spilling blood down the left side of his temple. There was blood all over the steering wheel. Bonnie pried open the door and she quickly searched for the faint pulse on Damon’s neck. 

Bonnie cursed. He had a death wish, didn’t he?

Damon groaned, barely coming aware. “What the—”

“Save your strength,” Bonnie cut in. “Just relax, and don’t make any sudden movements.”

He grunted like that wasn’t even an option.

She ran a sweeping gaze down his body, and her stomach turned with the sight of a dark stomach wound. She brushed her sopping wet bangs away from her eyes and focused on healing him. There was that interference with her powers again, pushing against her healing abilities with resistance. The harder she tried, the harder the resistance built. It didn’t make sense. Her mother couldn’t have been that powerful, could she? 

His breath smelled of alcohol, but it was the sight of all his blood everywhere that made Bonnie freak out a little. She fumbled for the cell in her back pocket.  _No signal._  Damn it. 

His eyes drifted closed, and Bonnie panicked. “Whoa! No, stay awake, Damon! Keep your eyes open!”

He blinked. “Why, Bonnie,” he slurred. “You look concerned.”

She was. So much so that she forgot to deflect his quip with one of her own. “You're fine,” she insisted, more to herself than to him. “You’re going to be fine.”

He grimaced as she pressed hard on his wound, trying to stem the gushing flow of blood. He cursed, but his voice was strained and his eyes were glazed over in anguish. He seemed to lose focus by the second.

Blood bubbled and gurgled up from his mouth, and he passed out.

“Damon! Damon!”

Her eyes watered with tears, not that anyone could have seen it through the rain. She rocked his body against hers to check his breathing. It had stopped. _Damon could die out here. He could actually die._  The thought was sobering and simultaneously panic-inducing. So Bonnie did what she could, the first thing that came to mind. The  _stupidest_  thing that came to mind. 

This magic was old, and potent. Pain flared, but Bonnie pushed harder. The panic helped. The belly wound, the slash across his forehead, the amount of blood loss – he wouldn’t last long out here without help, and they’d lost one Salvatore brother already. Bonnie was  _not_  going to watch Damon die, not today, not ever. She owed him that much. 

She suddenly couldn’t breathe. The pain intensified. Her nose began to bleed, and it felt like someone was assaulting her mind - invading it by prying it open like a damn crowbar on doors. 

Damon’s eyes flew open, and then he was gasping air. The flood of life into his body must have felt like an electricity surge, because he was cringing and his body convulsed. Bonnie felt something go through her, a type of magic too old and deep to name, and then something left her body just as quickly.

 _Jesus. What had she done?_

* * *

At some point, she must have passed out because the next thing she knew, she was waking up in Damon’s arms. 

He was carrying her across the road towards her truck, and she must have healed him because it didn’t look like his injuries were bothering him anymore. Bonnie hadn’t faired as well. She was weak and shivering, and that last spell had drained all her powers. She looked up at Damon, studying his profile in the dark light. The rain came down on both of them. It washed away the blood on his face, and Bonnie blinked, dizzy. He got the truck door open, and settled her against the passenger seat. 

“What—” Bonnie tried, but Damon swung around the hood of the truck to slide into the driver’s seat. “You all right?”

Damon tossed her a smirk, but it was forced and rigid and nothing like his usual ones. “Right as rain. What’d you do back there? It felt different than the normal healing.”

Bonnie paused. What’d she done was, in retrospect, nothing short of madness. She’d tied her life to his, a magical bind that was of the gravest order. If he died, now so would she; if he suffered a wound, she’d feel it – at least until the spell’s potency would wear off. Given how weak she’d been lately, it probably wouldn’t last a day, but still – it was a day tied to Damon Salvatore.

Out loud, she only said, “I saved your life, Damon. The words you’re looking for are  _thank you_.”

He started the truck without further comment, and for a while, Bonnie stayed huddled in a tight ball. She watched the dance of pretty lights as lightning flashed across the sky. 

“Thank you,” Damon said, suddenly.

Bonnie turned to him.

He elaborated, “I know it took a lot out of you. You saved my life, again, and I know you didn’t have to do it.”

The words harked back to another conversation they’d once had, in those confusing days after the Counsel had tried to rid the town of vampires on Founder’s Day. That was when it had all started to change for her, a small thing that had snowballed. That was when she realized that maybe, just maybe, Damon Salvatore wasn’t all bad.

She sat in silence as Damon maneuvered her truck through the dense forest. He’d left his Porsche back there, like it was nothing more than a mere wreckage of junk rather than a priceless antique. Bonnie didn’t know how to broach the subject. He’d crashed headfirst into a tree; had it been an accident? A drunken mistake? Or, Jesus, was she dealing with Damon at his lowest and most self-destructive? She must have shivered, because Damon glanced over at her, then pointedly turned up the heat and aimed the vents her way. Bonnie stretched out her hands and warmed her fingers, waiting for some feeling to return. It was a long wait. 

“What were you doing back there?” she asked, and her voice sounded faint to her ears.

He shrugged. “Just letting loose some steam. Lost control of the car.”

Bonnie almost wanted to let it go without further prodding. She didn’t know how to handle him like this. Though she’d always known about it, she’d never before been privy enough to witness his self-loathing tendencies; she’d always just seen the cocky exterior and the charismatic arrogance. But Elena had asked for her to look after him, and Bonnie had already given him her life, essentially, with that spell. Now it was time to get a little more personal.

“Stefan wouldn’t want you dead, y’know? Crashing to death would just piss him off.”

Damon snorted. “Stefan didn’t get pissed off. He got  _disappointed._ " She could hear the metaphorical air-quotes in his voice. "Besides, don’t go reading into it more than what’s there. I was drunk. I lost control of the car.”

He sounded sober. She must have dried out the alcohol from him when she’d healed him. 

“You can play it off however you want, Damon, but I know what I saw back there—”

“Don’t overreact—”

“Shut up and let me speak for a moment,” Bonnie said, eyes flashing. “I deserve that much after what I just did for you.” Damon threw her a dark look, but kept quiet. “You act like you don’t care, but I have never seen another human being wear his heart on his sleeve as clearly as you do. You think that you can be as self-destructive as you want, and no one will notice? No one will care? I always saw through your bullshit, Damon. I’m here to tell you that now is no different. People care.”

“Like you?” he asked, wryly.

“Yes,” Bonnie returned, steadfast. “I care.”

There was no quip to that.

Because she did care about him, and that wasn’t a joking matter. It had taken years, and she couldn’t even pinpoint when it’d happen, but somewhere along the way, at some point Damon had proven himself to be better than the asshole vampire she’d first assumed him to be. More than that, Bonnie had seen a side of him worth caring for. She couldn’t watch him throw that all away in another one of his whims. He deserved better, and she’d fight for him even if he wouldn’t fight for himself. 

She owed him that – owed him that for the brother that Bethany Bennett took away. 

That was why she’d tied her life to him.

Damon was watching her out of the corner of his eye, but pretending to keep his eyes on the road. Bonnie knew him well enough; he didn’t talk back, he didn’t joke, he just sat there quietly as her declaration soaked up the quiet. 

The rest of the car ride was filled with a pregnant silence.


	5. Chapter 5

Their options were seriously lacking. 

Bonnie studied the heavy grimoire in front of her, slipping a finger in the crevice as she slowly turned the pages one by one. Around her, Elena and Caroline had gathered with their own books, and the library of the Salvatore mansion had been turned into a temporary cramming session. Everybody tried to figure out what Bonnie’s mother could be up to. It hadn’t been productive thus far. 

Elena settled another book in front of her and sat down. “Bethany said things about restoring order, and a power drain. I don’t remember much, but I do know that when she did the spell on Damon and Jeremy, it was about that.”

Bonnie worried her lip with her teeth, trying to make heads or tails of all the scattered information. Unfortunately, despite the fact that Elena and Caroline been held imprisoned for well over a day in her mother’s presence, they still hadn’t learned what her mother was planning. Balance, power, something about getting rid of the vampires in the town? Considering that Damon had been turned human, Bonnie wondered if her mother was working on some type of “cure.” Some way of undoing the vampire curse? But if that was the case, what had happened with Jeremy? Why turn him into a vampire? Was it about a transfer of power, then?

It was too many questions, and not enough answers.

Caroline slammed a book shut in frustration. “This sucks. Bethany was working off an old dusty book, anyways. It was probably one of a kind.”

A grimoire of her own, Bonnie suspected. That didn’t mean that they didn’t have to do their due diligence in research. She read through another useless spell and turned the page. The morning light was a little grating to her eyes. Bonnie hadn’t had a night’s sleep since two nights ago, and everybody was still on pins and needles. 

“Okay, so run it by me one more time,” Bonnie said. 

Caroline groaned. “Jeremy and Damon swap human-vampire mojo, and then yesterday they started the same spell again with Stefan but… he fought back.”

Which is when Ethan had killed him, a stake through the heart. Bonnie tried not to focus on it, and quickly moved on. Neither Elena and Caroline understood the Latin spell, and beyond that mysterious red stone, the ingredients seemed the standard affair. Generic herbs, non-descript spices, the canister of holy water. Sans the stone, that could describe a hundred spells. Bonnie didn’t know where to start.

Eventually, Elena left her seat to join Bonnie. Bonnie sat along the cushioned bench near the window, knees drawn up, the book in her lap. Elena took the space left open near Bonnie’s feet, and offered an encouraging smile.

“How’re you doing? With, y’know… your mother?”

Bonnie grimaced. “To be honest? I’m trying not to think about it too much.”

Elena placed a hand on her arm, and Bonnie almost wanted to pull away. But it was Elena, and beyond that weird affinity that Elena had with her, always managing to unwind Bonnie’s secrets like a spool, Bonnie knew… if there was anybody that understood complicated mommy-issues, it was Elena. 

Bonnie paused, then leaned forward a little, confiding, “I don’t know what to do, Elena. I spent my entire life trying to forget her, because I thought she’d done the same. Now she’s back.”

She took a steadying breath, but it was useless. Just one word to Elena, and the dam seemed to break and Bonnie didn’t know how to stop the floods now that it was open. Bonnie felt her throat start to close and tears gathered in her eyes. 

“Grams never said anything about her being so hellbent against vampires. I knew she was a witch, but nothing else. I don’t know what to think of her. I don’t know what to think of my own mother, Elena.”

Her voice broke at the end of the last statement.

Elena squeezed her hand. “When Isobel showed up, I wanted so desperately for her to be good. I knew it wouldn’t be a fairytale, but a part of me hoped anyway. But she showed up, and it took just one conversation with her for all my delusions to shatter. She was bad news.” 

Bonnie remembered. She remembered all too well how devastated Elena had been after that meeting. Bonnie also remembered walking away, the one instance where she’d allowed her prejudice against vampires to overrule her friendship with Elena. Never again.

Elena swallowed tightly, a pained expression fixed rigidly on her face, and then locked gazes with Bonnie. “But before the end? Before she died? Isobel showed me a side of her that was different. I think there was still good in her, even if she didn’t act on it. That’s something we gotta remember. People aren’t black and white, Bonnie.”

Bonnie kept quiet, soaking up Elena’s words. To be honest, Bonnie knew that she’d always had that difficulty of seeing beyond the surface of a person. Everything was black or white, with no shades to speak of. It took her the longest time to realize that everything wasn’t that simple. People weren’t pieces on a chessboard. What was one man’s executioner was another man’s savior. Bonnie had been savior and executioner, both. She couldn’t afford to look at the world with such naiveté anymore.

“Hey,” Caroline pitched in, suddenly, “My mom tried to kill me more than once, too.”

Bonnie and Elena turned to stare at her.

“What?” Caroline defended herself. “I mean, yeah, things worked out okay in the end, but I’m just saying. We could start a club for screwed up relationships with mothers.”

All three girls paused, then burst into laughter.

If any of the boys had walked in on them in that instance, Bonnie wasn’t sure how they could have explained themselves. Bonnie wiped the tears that threatened to fall from all the laughter, and realized how ridiculous this all was. God, how had this become her life? Elena and Caroline both knew exactly what it was like to feel this alone, this isolated from the one person in the world that should have protected her from the beginning. A mother’s bond. Bonnie was almost laughing at it, but there was a quiet tug of pain that she refused to acknowledge.

When the noise died down, Bonnie stared at Elena and Caroline, who both seemed to sober in the same instance. Damn. She’d missed these two. No one could understand Bonnie as well as them. Leaving behind Mystic Falls had been a painful decision, but while she’d never missed the town itself, she’d missed these two like crazy. Elena – sweet, lovable Elena, who hid a tough interior and managed to see the best in things when others would have only seen the darkness. And Caroline – snarky, beautiful Caroline, who would go to bat for her friends in an instant but always seemed surprised to have that same loyalty repaid. 

They were more than just her friends, better than blood sisters. She’d gone through the best and worst times of her life with them by her sides, and that presence had been an aching absence in her life the last few years. 

It was lonely being Bonnie Bennett without them. 

Elena must have been a mind-reader, because she tugged Bonnie into a hug. “We’re here for you, Bonnie. We’re always here for you.”

Caroline jumped into the group hug, and Bonnie held on tightly, drawing strength from them both.

* * *

Within the next hour and a half, the girls went through a dozen other books. Nothing helped. The table was cluttered, and sometime around noon, Damon had apparently rediscovered the wonders of human taste-buds and had ordered out for Chinese. Which was strange, because Bonnie had the weirdest craving for Chinese since early that morning, and she wasn’t usually a Kung Pow Chicken kind of girl. The group ate together with plastic forks and paper cups, around the long mahogany table in the Salvatore dining room; a room better fitted for elegant four-course meals and polished silverware. 

When they were done, Bonnie waited quietly until the others had cleared the food off the table and left the room. When they filed out, Bonnie turned back to the empty room and took a breath, concentrating. She tested her powers by elevating all the books into the air and psychically finding their proper place on the bookshelves. The books lifted in unison, but somewhere there was a mental block. She tried to find the right spots for the books on the shelves, but it looked off. Something wasn’t right about the order, when previously her innate psychic senses would have found the normal resting place for any object by mere concentration alone. 

Damon confirmed it a second later, announcing his presence behind her. “You’re slipping,” he informed her, striding forward to reach for a misplaced book. “No way would I put Shakespeare next to a book on the history of Wiccans.”

Bonnie didn’t bother with a comeback. The drain on her powers from the previous day had a lasting effect. She slid her back against the opposite wall, sliding all the way down until she was sitting on the floor. Indignity and anger suddenly warred inside her. She drew her knees to her chest and stared ahead, trying again to concentrate. It was no use. The books barely budged. She tried again, harder. 

Damon eyed the books, then eyed her. “What’s wrong?” 

Bonnie couldn’t answer him, trying so hard until her head pounded with the effort. She didn’t know how much of her powers she’d used up, tying her life to Damon and effectively saving him in the same breath. That spell would have been a tax on her powers on a good day, and she hadn’t had a good day since stepping foot back onto Mystic Falls. Her powers were failing.

Damon crossed the room to her. He crouched down in front of her, bringing them eye-to-eye. He cupped her chin and tugged her eyes to meet his, and Bonnie tried not to flinch when he wiped away a trail of blood with his thumb. A nosebleed. Bonnie self-consciously pushed away from him, rising to get some air.

She was weak, tired, and she needed to be at her best if her friends were going to last a fortnight. And instead? Instead, she could barely do a spell that she’d once done blindly in high school.

Bonnie wiped the blood away, realizing she was scared shitless. 

Without her powers, she was nothing. 

“Y’know, if I were a smarter man, I might be thinking you’re holding something back from me.”

Bonnie turned around. Damon was leaning against the wall, just leaning casually in that posture of skilled insolence that she always saw on him like it was a second skin. His eyes betrayed his concern, though. It occurred to her that there was nothing straightforward about Damon. He was all slippery lines and sharp angles, and he could never just present himself in an uncomplicated manner like everybody else she’d ever known. She thought that type of singular grace and elusiveness was a vampire thing, but apparently not. 

Human, vampire, whatever. Damon was still Damon.

“Don’t concern yourself,” she told him, “I’ll get better.”

“Yeah, I’m reassured. Why don’t you just tell me—”

“Seriously, Damon, just let it go.”

“You did something to me yesterday and it was more than the average healing spell.” That declaration left Bonnie staring at him in shock. He flashed a lazy smirk. “What? Did you take me for an idiot?” she opened her mouth and he cut her off. “Ah!  _Don’t_  answer that.”

Bonnie tried to play it cool. “It was an aggressive healing spell. You were badly injured.”

Damon treaded forward, leaning into her personal space. “How is it draining you  _this_  much?”

Bonnie tried not to lean back. “I don’t know. I think my mother put some type of hex on me, some type of spell that’s draining me.” She shrugged and crossed her arms, ignoring his proximity like she didn’t care about it. “I can’t think of another reason why I’m so weak.”

Damon released a breath, and for a beat, she hoped he’d take that as an explanation. She did not want to tell him the truth about the extent of her spell. She didn’t want him reading into it, and to be honest, Bonnie wasn’t sure herself why she’d done it. In the heat of the moment it had seemed like the right thing to do, but the hours afterwards had left her obsessing over the ramifications of her actions.  _She was tied to Damon Salvatore._  Such a potent spell was unpredictable, even if it was only temporary. A few years ago, she’d never have even considered such an unthinkable thing.

Elena walked in. “Bonnie? Matt’s on the phone. It’s for you.”

Something about her tone told Bonnie it was urgent. She took the call in the kitchen, winding the cord around her fingers as Matt told her, “Your mother stopped by the  _Grill_. She wants a meeting with you, today. Just you, and no one else.”

* * *

“Are you shitting me?” Tyler said, unhelpfully. “This is an obvious trap.”

“We don’t know that,” Bonnie refuted. “It could be just a meeting, a way of trying to work this out without more bloodshed.”

Damon’s face darkened, “No offense, witchy, but you’ve obviously got blinders on. I know it’s your mother, but you’re—”

“Don’t tell me I’m acting emotionally,” Bonnie cut in with a warning. “That’s a little too pot-meet-kettle for my tastes.”

Damon didn’t bother denying the accusation. Elena and Caroline traded looks, but Bonnie didn’t care. She had to give it a chance. Just one. Stefan’s death would never be justified, but Bonnie still needed to know  _why._  What was her mother doing? Bonnie would never find it out unless her mother told her, and she’d never come close to understanding it unless she heard it in Bethany’s own words.

“I’m going,” Bonnie declared. “And no one can stop me.”

“I can,” Damon challenged easily. “Seeing as your powers are on the fritz, I could probably just toss you over my shoulder like a caveman and lock you upstairs. For your own good.”

“Damon,” Elena started, in a warning tone. “Don’t.”

Bonnie lifted a brow, challenging. “Oh, no, please.  _Do_. I’d love to see you try.”

She stared off against Damon, and something about her stance must have made him reconsider. She knew in his own misguided way, he was showing concern for her – but his concern was condescending as hell. Bonnie could take care of herself. She was feeling weak, but this was her mother, and Bonnie deserved answers. She wasn’t going to hide out, nursing her wounds like some newborn pup. She was Bonnie Bennett, and her name had been garnering recognition for the last decade all across America for a reason. 

“I will find out what’s going on, and I will stop my mother,” she said, unflinching. “Everybody, stay here and wait for my word.”

“You’re going alone?” Caroline squeaked, in a tone that basically said,  _are you insane?_

“The message was for me to come alone.”

“If the message told you to jump off a cliff,” Caroline tossed back, “would you be lining up? No offense, Bonnie, but you’re acting like an idiot.”

Bonnie sighed.  _How was she not supposed to take offense to that?_  “I have to do this, and she’ll smell a vampire or a werewolf a mile away.”

Elena stepped forward. “But not a human.”

Elena had that look on her face, the one that brokered no arguments. Bonnie wasn’t sure what help Elena could be against a witch as powerful as her mother, but she also knew it was equally hopeless to argue with Elena about it. When Elena became stubborn about something, there was little changing her mind. 

Damon came up beside Elena, and smirked. “So, it’s settled then.”

Of course. Where Elena went, Damon would follow after. How predictable.

Bonnie sighed, and then nodded reluctantly.

* * *

Damon didn’t like this. He didn’t like this one bit. Elena and Damon stayed in the shadows as Bonnie took her seat near the edge of the bar. Matt nodded at her, pouring her a glass of beer that was a little early for the night’s entertainment, but Damon figured she’d earned it. Meeting her psycho mother at the _Grill._  He glanced over at Elena, and wondered if she was experiencing any sense of déjà-vu.

Without even meaning to, he found his eyes locked on Elena. It wasn’t anything unusual, his eyes being drawn to her, but this time the intent was different. She was still one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen, but the draw she had on him was suddenly void, leaving behind only this strange indefinable form of relief. 

It was the damndest thing in the world to realize he didn’t want her anymore. He expected to feel hollow in the aftermath of her love, but instead there was a sense of expectation and restlessness. He would leave her alone now. They would be friends, closer than family maybe, but there was no reason for him to chase after her anymore. Not in the wake of all that had happened. Stefan’s death had been the wakeup call that years of futile pursuit hadn’t achieved. Elena wasn’t his, and would never be his. In his heart, there would always be a place for her. She had woken a part of him he hadn’t known existed, but it was time he finally grew out of this infatuation and acknowledged what it was and what it wasn’t. 

Whatever it was, it didn’t compete with what Elena had with Stefan. Damon was done trying to compete with that, even the memory of it.

Elena felt him staring at her, and glanced over to meet his eyes. Her gaze was uncertain, even a little intimidated, but she held it. He wondered if she thought he’d try his usual tricks now, the standard advances that she’d brushed off a thousand and one times before. He knew the hesitancy in her eyes was because she feared exactly that.

“What?” Elena asked eventually, when the silence had stretched too long.

He shook his head. “You ever wonder what life would have been like if I hadn’t followed Stefan into town? How things would have gone differently?”

Her face fell. “Don’t think like that, Damon. It isn’t your fault that Stefan died. There’s nothing any of us could have done. Some of us are just unlucky in life that way.”

“Stefan wasn’t unlucky,” Damon said in all seriousness. “He was luckiest son of a bitch in the world. He had you.”

“Damon,” Elena protested, back-peddling. “Don’t—”

“I’m not,” he cut in, and he realized how that sounded. “I’m not… I’m trying to say he was lucky that he had someone that loved him as much as he loved— I’m not trying to…” He scrubbed a hand through his hair, trying to marshal together his words, when he realized he had none. How was he supposed to convince Elena that he wouldn’t pursue her anymore? “I’m not… you don’t have to worry about me anymore.”

“Worry about you?” Elena looked confused, then paused. “Of course I worry about you, Damon. I know how hard you’re taking Stefan’s—”

He groaned, and it was so typical of him to be unable to verbalize this, and it was so typical of Elena that she’d be concerned about  _his_  welfare when she’d just lost the love of her life.

Elena paused, and she must have sensed that this was approaching a topic neither wanted raised, but had to face. She turned away, the curtain of her hair hiding her face from him for a moment. Then she drew a breath and turned back to him.

“I was going to have Stefan turn me.”

The words struck him in the chest, and Damon stared in surprise. “What?”

“I was going to have Stefan turn me,” Elena said again. “I had just decided it, actually, before we were taken. I wanted the rest of my life to be with him, and I realized I was finally ready. All these years, he never pushed, he never even brought up the topic because he knew I wasn’t ready. I didn’t want to be a vampire and give up my life. But somewhere along the way, I realized, my life was with him. Losing him would have been worse than death.” She paused, grief-stricken. "I was right."

“Did he know?”

“I never had the chance to tell him.”

Damon stood silent, soaking up the words. Damon didn’t know she’d been thinking about that, would never have even guessed it, and it stung all the more when he realized that Stefan didn’t know either; never knew, even with his dying breath, how much Elena loved him. God, Damon had been blind, hadn’t he? She’d said no a thousand times, and Damon always took it to mean he had to try  _harder_ , be  _better_ , when she’d meant exactly what she’d always said. 

For her, it had always been and always would be about Stefan.

His heart broke a little, but mostly he was fine, strangely whole in the aftermath of a moment that should have left him a hobble of a man.

“I get it,” Damon breathed to her, and Elena dared to look back at him. “I get that you loved him more than anything. I’m… I’m trying to tell you that you never have to worry about me thinking otherwise, or hoping for otherwise. I don’t want that,” he vowed. “Not anymore.”

Elena stared at him, eyes watering, eyes-wide. She searched his face, and what she found must have conveyed the gravity of what he was saying, because she looked like the right realization dawned on her.

Before either of them could say anything else, the front entrance opened and Bethany Bennett came striding through the door. Elena snapped her attention to the front, and Damon quickly followed. The older witch paused at the top of the stairs, searching the room before she fixated on Bonnie at the end of the bar.

He watched Bonnie stiffen, then set out her jaw like she was mentally preparing for a battle.

 _Atta girl_ , he thought. Don’t show any weakness.

* * *

Bonnie felt like she was going to throw up.

It wasn’t the sensation she expected to feel upon her reunion with her mother, or at least the second encounter thereof. She expected to feel anger, pain, betrayal, confusion, and pretty much any other negative emotion she could think of, but it was almost comical the way Bonnie was only thinking about her holding her lunch in. She had a feeling Damon would’ve disapproved.

“Bonnie,” her mother greeted.

Bonnie jerked away when it looked like her mother wanted to reach forward and touch her. Bethany’s face fell, but Bonnie refused to feel anything. This woman had killed Stefan. Bonnie had to keep that mantra going in her head so she wouldn’t forget, not even for a second, just how treacherous this woman was. It wasn’t like Bonnie didn’t have another 16 years of abandonment issues to back that up, either.

“What do you want?” Bonnie demanded.

Her mother paused, then slowly took the stool beside her. She motioned for Matt to come closer, and when Bonnie nodded her head, he reluctantly made his way over.

“Gin and tonic,” her mother said.

“A little early to be getting drunk, isn’t it, Mom?”

Her mother flinched against the scorn in Bonnie’s voice, and waited patiently while Matt poured the drink. When he wandered away again, Bethany lifted the glass and gulped the liquid in one go. 

“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve played this conversation in my head?” Bethany asked, quietly. “How many times I’ve envisioned our reunion?”

Bonnie swiveled her stool to face her. “Probably as many times as I have. Funny, though, I never imagined it’d happen over the dead body of one of my friends.”

Bethany looked up. “You keep strange friends, Bonnie. I see you even brought them here, despite my requests.”

Bonnie stiffened. Damon and Elena were out of sight, but were clearly already on her mother’s radar. “Leave them out of this.”

“You’re the one that brought them here. The guy seems especially eager for a fight.”

“You killed his brother,” Bonnie said, coldly. “He has every right to want you dead.”

Bethany stared at her, coolly. “And would you let him do it? Would you let him kill your mother?”

Bonnie tried to keep her face impassive. “If it came down to him or you, you haven’t given me a thing to want to come down on your side.”

Bethany’s lips thinned into a line, and then a spark of anger came into her eyes. “I thought your Grams would have taught you not to meddle in vampire’s affairs.”

“Stefan Salvatore was different.”

“Stefan and Damon Salvatore’s reputation precedes them. Don’t tell me they’re innocents. We both know that’s not true.”

Bonnie bit her tongue to keep from lashing out defenses; the truth was, she knew her mother had facts backing her. Stefan had gone through a relapse of his homicidal days in that year following Klaus’s transformation. He’d done a lot of evil and killed a lot of innocents in those days, and it had only been Elena that had drawn him back from the dark side. 

And Damon – Bonnie was well versed in his anarchy days, having lived through the twilight of them.

“They’ve changed,” Bonnie said at length, challenging her mother. “If you had only stopped and seen them as what they are, you would never have—”

“Seen what they are?” Bethany repeated. “You’re calling  _me_  blind? Bonnie, are you even aware of the irony here? You’re friends with those monsters – and yes, monsters is the perfect word for them – and you’re calling into question my judgment? The world would be a better place without their kind.”

Bonnie shook her head, and took a controlling breath. This wasn’t getting them anywhere. Bonnie could toe-to-toe with her mother about the philosophy behind the qualities of a vampire, but Bonnie suspected her mother had little practical experience with them. And if she did, clearly it was the kind that didn’t deserve to be categorized amongst numbers like the Salvatore brothers and Caroline Forbes.

“Once upon a time, Mom, I would have agreed with you. Then I turned seventeen. The world isn’t black and white, and my friends aren’t either. But you know what  _is_  black and white? Murder. You’ve  _murdered_ , Mom. Why? And, god, how? What are you doing here in Mystic Falls?”

“Saving it,” her mother declared, and then hesitated. She took a deep breath, and then reached for her bag. Bonnie tensed, but only relaxed when she realized that Bethany was pulling loose an old book. Her grimoire. Bonnie was surprised. “I wanted to show you this. I was hoping it’d convince you that I’m on the right side.”

Showing Bonnie a personal grimoire was an unparalleled act of trust from one witch to another. Bonnie knew the gravity of that.

She watched as her mother flipped through the aged book, and landed on a single page towards the back. She stretched out her hand, tracing the illustration of a red stone in the center of the page. It was the same red stone that was the key element in the spell that turned Damon human, and Jeremy into a vampire. 

 _The Spell of Undoing,_  the caption read.

Her mother filled in the blanks. “You see, Bonnie, it’s a spell more powerful than anything I have ever seen before. It undoes evil. It could save this town, Bonnie.”

Bonnie looked up in sudden bewilderment. “But… Jeremy. It turned him into a—”

“I know. That was never supposed to happen. As far as I can tell, his necromancy talents resulted in an unintended side-affect. Damon Salvatore was supposed to cast off his demons, but Jeremy’s proximity to him during the spell as well as the volatile nature of the magic resulted in him drawing in the death. Jeremy became a vampire when he should have been nothing more than a spectator in the spell.”

Her throat closed off. “Then why did you kidnap him?”

“Jeremy was an insurance policy,” her mother informed. “I took him to make sure the vampires didn’t get too frisky. The same thing with Elena. I knew that those two Gilbert kids had close ties to all the three vampires we took. Damon was the first successful experiment, but I needed to expand the parameters of the spell.”

“You were going to use Stefan and Caroline for your experiments?” Bonnie repeated, outraged.

“I was going to cure them,” Bethany said, as if she were correcting Bonnie’s accusations instead of justifying them. “Think of it, Bonnie, a town without vampires. Mystic Falls hasn’t known a fate like that in nearly two hundred years.”

Bonnie could see it, actually. She could see the draw of that dream, even if she didn’t agree with her mother’s approach. How could she not? Even if Bonnie had come to accept Damon, Caroline and Stefan into her life, she knew the evil numbers in vampires far outweighed the good. For every Caroline, there was a Katherine. For every Stefan and Damon, there was an Elijah and Klaus. Bonnie had wished a thousand times for a world without their evil. Now Bethany had found a way to it.

She glanced away, where she knew Elena and Damon were hiding in the shadows. 

Her mother’s voice cut in, “They aren’t your friends, you know. Anyone that asks you to kill for them doesn’t deserve your friendship. What happened to Stefan was an accident. I wanted him to live, not die. But them? I know you’ve killed for them, Bonnie. I know all about everything you’ve been doing since you were a little girl. I’ve always watched over you—”

“Then why were you never there?” Bonnie demanded in a cry. “I needed you a thousand times over, and you never once showed your face. I’m supposed to believe you cared?”

“I did—”

“Where were you when I was lost and alone, and there was no one to help me discover my powers? God,” Bonnie choked out, “Where were you when Grams died?”

 _Where was she when Dad died?_

It looked like her mother had been slapped across the face, and Bonnie felt glad that she’d hit her mark. All these years, Bonnie had been alone. She’d had to teach herself everything from scratch. She’d had to wade through the most tumultuous times in her life all by herself, because there was no one. And now she came to realize that not only was her mother a powerful witch, but apparently she’d been watching over Bonnie the entire time?

What good was that, if Bethany had never once stepped in and  _helped_?

“I needed a mother,” Bonnie breathed in something akin to betrayal, “and you weren’t there.”

Bethany glanced away, and closed the grimoire. 

“It’s too late, isn’t it?” Bethany said. “You’ve already chosen your side, and it’s not mine.”

“Why?” Bonnie demanded. “Why do you hate them so much?”

Bethany’s eyes hardened. “Look at our family tree. Look at the number of Bennett witches that have died at the hands of vampires. How can you ask me that, after what happened to your Grams? How can you ask me that, after what happened to your  _father_?”

Bonnie’s eyes flashed. “Don’t! Don’t pretend like you gave a damn about him! You left both of us years ago, and you never looked back!”

“I left because I had to,” her mother said, quietly. “Please, Bonnie. Join me. I don’t want things to go another way.  _Please._  I’d give anything for you to join me.”

Bonnie stared, and even though she’d long realized that this was the purpose of the entire meeting, she was still shocked by her mother’s plea. It was desperate, and genuine, and heartbreaking. But Bonnie couldn’t betray her friends, or her conscience. Something about her mother’s story didn’t add up. It warned her off. The entire picture wasn’t clear, and the only thing Bonnie knew, instinctively, was that she could not trust her mother.

It broke her heart.

“No,” Bonnie whispered, faintly.

Bethany’s face fell, then closed off. “So be it.”

Bonnie never felt the blast coming, but it come up from behind and threw her against the bar. Fire burned into her, and a scream tore out of her. Bonnie was on fire. The licks of green and blue flames engulfed her, and she was screaming. The agony was intense, all-consuming. She couldn’t think beyond it.

Somewhere in the distance, Damon’s screams echoed her own.

The flames ceased, and Bonnie dropped to the floor. She became aware in slow shards, first only aware of the pain, a pulsing, glowing presence across her skin, then it dulled, ebbing away. She forced her eyes open, forced herself to roll onto her side, desperately nauseated. Despite the fact that she had been set aflame seconds ago, there wasn’t a mark on her skin, save one. A pentagram was etched into her right hand, like she’d been branded. The skin puckered like an angry red-splotch, and Bonnie closed her eyes – the light was sickening – and breathed determinedly through her nose. 

Some uncounted number of breaths later, the bile receded, and she risked opening her eyes again. 

“I didn’t want it to be this way,” Bethany told her, before she walked away. 

Bonnie reached out with her powers. She flung her mother across the room and pinned her against the banister. Bonnie pushed herself off the ground, grabbing the countertop for support. Her mother’s eyes flashed and connected with Bonnie, shocked. 

“That…that’s impossible,” Bethany breathed in shock. 

Bonnie stood on unsteady legs. She realized her mother had tried to strip her powers, leaving behind no trace of magic for Bonnie to use. Bethany hadn’t anticipated the life-bond that connected Bonnie to Damon; it had served as an unexpected insulation against the spell. Bonnie looked back to the corner of the restaurant, finding the spot where Elena was helping Damon to his feet. 

His eyes connected with Bonnie, and in the middle of all the chaos, she felt the flood of his questions and agitation within him. It was underneath her skin, pushing against her mind, and Bonnie realized the connection she had with him went deeper than she’d known. She  _felt_  him.

Her mother broke the bindings and fell to the floor. Bonnie had just enough strength in her to respond with a block before a surge of psychic shockwaves came slamming into her. Bonnie responded with a spell of her own, throwing back a table with telekinesis. Bethany blocked. Bonnie pushed forward. Her mother had no option but to flee, rushing out the front entrance.

Bonnie’s legs caved under her. She landed in a heap, struggling to breathe. Her mother had just tried to take away her powers. She’d tried to  _steal_  her powers. Bonnie struggled under the weight of that betrayal, coming to terms with what her mother had turned into. 

Damon hobbled over to her, half supported by Elena. “Is there something you forgot to mention, Glinda?”

On his right hand, there was a pentagram brand that matched her own.

* * *

“So you just—”

“I did it to save your life—”

“You could have mentioned that fact before.”

“I didn’t want you reading into it.”

”Reading into it?” Damon repeated, incredulous. “We’re  _fucking_  life-bonded, Bonnie. You didn’t even buy me dinner first.”

Bonnie flushed, feeling the lick of his anger augment her own. “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s only for a short period of time. A day, tops. By the way, I saved your life by doing this. I’m not exactly pleased with the situation either.”

Damon rolled his eyes. “Next time, sweetheart, at least  _tell_  me.”

She had no pithy comeback to that. She knew she should have told him, but she wanted to avoid this exact conversation. Bonnie glanced away to where Elena was helping Matt clean up the mess her mother had inflicted on the  _Grill_. Bonnie winced. Matt was probably rethinking the benefits of buying this joint. He’d been the owner of the  _Grill_  for three years, and she was here less than three days and had managed to tear it apart twice already. 

“Hey,” Elena said, reaching for something on the floor. She rose up with a book in her hands, and Bonnie’s eyes widened. “Is this—”

Her mother’s grimoire. 

Bonnie was across the room in an instant. Bethany must have abandoned it in her rush out the door. Bonnie took the book, then felt a thrill of exhilaration rush through her. This changed things. She flipped through the pages to the end, where her mother had shown Bonnie the Spell of Undoing.

“Is that the spell?” Damon asked. “Can you do it? Is it possible for you to—”

“Can I read it first?” Bonnie asked. 

Damon threw his hands up. “Is it too early to ask for a divorce in this little life-bond?”

“Damon,” Elena cut in with a warning. “Let her concentrate.”

Bonnie expelled a breath, trading a thankful look with Elena. Damon was getting on her nerves, from zero to annoying in an instant, and she didn’t even know why she let him get under her skin so much. Bonnie read through the first page, but there was too much information and everyone was watching her expectantly. She closed the spine of the book, and straightened.

“I need time,” Bonnie said. “We’ll take this back with us.”

* * *

Twelve hours later Damon sat in uncomfortable silence in his bedroom, still waiting for Bonnie to come back with answers. Patience wasn’t one of his virtues. He settled heavily on the edge of his large bed and cradled his head in both hands, sliding fingers down until they intertwined at the base of his neck. Christ, he was tired. Or maybe Bonnie was? He still hadn’t wrapped his head around this lifebond, but he kept thinking of the possibilities. 

He wasn’t as obtuse about the situation as he played. Bonnie had risked her life to save him, and as much Damon got a kick out of baiting her, he was all too aware of how much that cost her. It humbled him a little, actually, that she was willing to put her life on the line like that. God knows he’d never given her reason to, but he wasn’t the self-sacrificing type and was more than willing to take refuge in her spell. He had a feeling that Bonnie didn’t even appreciate the scale of her lifebond with him. She may have been the most powerful witch he’d ever known, but in a lot of ways her youth worked against her. She didn’t realize what a lifebond meant; Damon knew. It was old magic, almost entirely forgotten, but Damon had seen it a time or two in his long life. It was the type of thing that stuck, if the owners wanted it to. 

A lifebond meant few barriers between them, the mental or physical kind. He knew it was something that could be manipulated; he could probably even seduce Bonnie without her even realizing it was the bond at work. Once upon a time, Damon would have used that to his advantage. Unfortunately for his libido, times had changed and so had he. 

Damon released a sigh. He’d let the bond pass without prodding it. It’d ease away, likely in a day or two just as Bonnie hoped – and she’d be none the wiser to how close she came to giving Damon an all-access pass to her soul. He owed Bonnie that much. Of course, that didn’t mean he didn’t entertain the idle fantasy about putting the bond to good use. It wasn’t often that he knew he could provoke the witch with something other than the heat of a fight. That type of chemistry could make for some fantastic dynamics in the bedroom, and Damon was tempted to play with it a little. 

Bonnie had more than enough on her plate, though. Too bad this hadn’t come at another point in their lives; Damon might’ve had some fun with it. 

The door opened and Damon snapped his head up. “Hey,” Caroline greeted. “You’re still up?”

He leaned back on his bed, planting his hands behind him. “Where is everybody?”

“Tyler had to cover a shift, and Elena finally fell asleep. Bonnie’s still going over that grimoire with a freakin’ magnifying glass.”

Damon grunted. Bonnie had been obsessively consumed by the presence of that book, going on and on about something to do with the  _Spell of Undoing._ Damon left her to it, even if his curiosity was a burning thing. 

“Do you think it would work?” Caroline asked, and Damon read the hidden want in her voice. “The cure? For me?”

Damon stared at her and held in a sigh. Jesus, he hadn’t considered what this would mean for someone like Caroline. The little Blonde had always tried so hard to be normal, to be human, even going so far as to get married in a big giant Church in a big flowing white gown. Of course, she’d married a werewolf, and of course the whole bit about “till death do you part” was a matter of interpretation, but she had always been the girl that strived the hardest to be human. Now, there was spell that could take her vampirism away.

A cure. Funny how Damon didn’t think of it as that until she’d said it. 

“I don’t know, Caroline. Bonnie could answer that the best.”

Caroline chewed her lower lip a little, nervous. She dropped into the chair opposite him, and threaded her fingers together between her knees. “Is it… what does it feel like, to be human again?”

“Like I’ve got Mono,” he quipped.

Caroline glared. “I’m serious, Damon. What’s it like?”

“You haven’t been a vampire that long. You remember.”

“Barely,” Caroline snorted. “I’ve been a vampire nearly a decade.”

“That’s not that long.”

“It is if I’m 24,” she rebutted. 

He tried to remember what it was like, being that young. He had been reckless in his youth, especially for that era. He remembered how even then, Stefan had been the Able to his Cain, young and stately and just as much of a gentleman as Stefan always remained – with a bit more starch in his breeches, of course. There was his father, steadfast and strong, and just as strongly steadfast in his disapproving glare. 

But mostly, when Damon thought about being 24, he thought about seeing Katherine for the first time, arriving in that white stagecoach at the steps of his house. He thought about how her hair glistened in the forest when he’d chased her down. The memories were old and familiar, like a faded photograph he took out and lovingly ran his fingers across from time to time: Katherine’s skin, her teeth embedded in his flesh, the feel of her laughter when they rolled across the bed sheets. She may have turned out to be a manipulative bitch of the grandest kind, but she had been unadulterated love, an all consuming-obsession that had driven him for a hundred and fifty years. 

Until, of course, Elena, when he’d jumped obsessions like he was jumping lifeboats.

“Hey,” Caroline said, snapping her fingers in front of him. “Earth to Damon, I asked you a question.”

“What?”

She released an aggravated exhale. “What does it feel like to be human again, dumbass?”

Damon paused, and surprised himself when he said, “It feels the same as being a vampire, pretty much.”

Caroline paused. “It does?”

He shook his head. “I need a vacation from this town. Go someplace where there’s a beach and not so many wacky-supernatural hijinks, and then maybe I’ll get back to you with a different answer.”

Caroline’s mouth thinned, looking like she was holding back a frown. Disappointment marred her eyes, though she seemed to understand it was his best answer. He knew what she wanted to hear, but Damon wasn’t up for painting a fairytale ending for her. Being human was turning out to be just as painful as being a vampire, and beyond the healing abilities, there wasn’t much advantage to either. Damon figured it was probably his general outlook on life that set the tone.

Besides… without the love of a good woman, what the hell was the point anyway? 

Call him a hopeless romantic, but Damon had always gladly called himself love’s bitch. Except, now, of course, he was without a master. 

“Bonnie still up?” he asked, tiredly. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, and figured he’d check on her progress. He rose off the mattress. “I want some damn answers.”

Caroline shrugged. “You know Bonnie. She won’t sleep until she’s read that book cover to cover.”

He grunted. Damn stubborn women. Why did he know so many of them?

“Get some rest,” he told Caroline. “Check up on Jeremy before you turn in.”

She nodded brightly, and then Damon was walking out, looking both ways before he blindly felt out – and  _there_. If Damon wanted, he could sense Bonnie’s presence in the room across from his. The witch had no idea just how strong this magic was; she should have known better.

He crossed the room, knocking on the door and not bothering to wait for an answer. “Honey,” he singsonged in a haughty tone meant to irritate her, “I’m home—”

He stopped short in surprise. She was fast asleep on top of a pile of books, the grimoire open and utilized as a pillow. The sight was downright  _adorable_. Damon snorted to himself. It figured that she’d exhaust herself into oblivion. The little witch didn’t know when to call it quits, did she? He knew that Bonnie had a persevering and yet self-sacrificing mentality that could have rivaled Elena. The difference was, of course, that Bonnie had a metric-fuck-ton of witchy powers that made her a little tougher nut to crack. 

It was one of the many things he admired about her, though a little common sense would do the women in his life some wonders. He walked over to her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Hey, witchy,” he whispered. “The bed is far more comfortable than that chair.”

Bonnie whined in her sleep, pulling away from Damon’s voice. 

He rolled his eyes. After a beat, he made a plan of action. With a finesse that was a little hampered by his newly-human reflexes, he got his arms around her tiny body and lifted. His knees protested, but Bonnie fit snugly against his chest, and then it was few feet of walking before he carefully deposited her on the bed. She rolled on her side, never waking in the slightest. A heavy sleeper, then. 

God, she was young. Looking at her slumber, she looked like a teenager, unmarred by all the responsibilities and worries of the world that she had taken on. A girl with the weight of the world on her shoulders; she’d always been like that, even when she’d been a new and fledging little witch. Damon wondered what made her that way; it must have been something in the family blood.

Damon turned back, looking to the grimoire set open on the table. Her mother certainly had a vision for the world. A place without vampires. It was a fairytale, of course, but apparently when Bennett Witches dreamed, they dreamed big. He walked across the room and took the seat left warm by Bonnie. He kicked up his feet on the table and pulled the book into his lap. The spells should have made for a boring midnight read, but Damon was fascinated by the lore behind the Spell of Undoing. 

It wasn’t just a spell for unmaking vampires. It could undo a great number of things. Undo any spell, recreate anything broken, unwind any fate. Damon read on as the list of things grew. It was a spell without limitations. All a person needed was the right ingredients. He looked to the drawing of the red stone, tracing his fingers along the edge. What he wouldn’t have given for something like this, a few years ago. But in those years, apparently he’d either gained some wisdom or lost of some of his inhibitions. Now, he looked at the spell and saw nothing but its shortcomings and setbacks. There were going to be consequences for this type of spell. There always were.

“It’s not just the red stone,” Bonnie said.

Damon startled, looking over to see that Bonnie had risen in bed. Her hair was little bedridden, her eyes sunken and tired. Her lips were pale, and her face was bare of any makeup. Still, a pretty girl rumpled from sleep was still a pretty girl, and Bonnie had always been a looker. 

“The stone is a conduit,” she said to him, with some meaning in her voice. “But it isn’t the only one that would work. A powerful witch could create another one that would function just as well.”

It went without saying that Bonnie could be that powerful witch, but still Damon wasn’t following. “And the point would be?”

“Another stone, another artifact that held just as much power as that stone—” she broke off, and looked away briefly. “I’d need another conduit, but in my line of work, that’s something that I could work around.” 

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I can do that spell, even without that red stone. You’ve still got the Moonstone, don’t you?”

Damon felt air leave his lungs for a beat, before he raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. But it’s useless now. The Sun and the Moon Curse drained it of—”

“That doesn’t matter,” Bonnie rebuked. “It’d work as a conduit, just like that red stone. It’d channel the energy.”

“Big woopdie-do,” Damon tossed back, but he got the sense that Bonnie was headed somewhere with this. Somewhere important. Her tone was too grave – too expectant. “Why would you want to recreate this spell? You want to make Caroline human again?”

Bonnie’s breath hitched involuntarily, but then she met his gaze head on. “That, and so much more. We could undo the spell that turned Jeremy into a vampire.”

 _And Damon into a human._

The thought reverberated in his skull, but aloud Damon only quipped, “You want to undo the Spell of Undoing?”

Bonnie studied him under half-lowered lashes, like she couldn’t meet his eyes anymore. “It’s a possibility.”

Damon tried not to let the thought eat away at him, but it stung. It shocked him how much that stung, considering he’d just gotten done telling Caroline he hadn’t noticed a difference either way between being human or vampire. But suddenly, when faced with the possibility of losing his humanity just when he’d gotten it back, he wasn’t as blasé about it. 

Being human had long been a secret dream of his. He knew it hadn’t gone according to his highest hopes thus far, but it was Day Three and Damon hadn’t had a chance to feel things out. He wanted an opportunity to do that when the fate of the entire fucking town wasn’t hanging in the balance, if that was at all doable.

But a second after the thought arose, he realized why Bonnie brought it up. Jeremy. Undoing the spell that had put a beat back in Damon’s heart was necessary in order to turn Jeremy back into a human. That little punk-nosed newbie vampire, who’d shown the restraint of a pit-bull on acid. Damon had long since learned how to control the inner animal in him. As a vampire, if one of them had to be one, then it’d be better for it to be Damon. Jeremy wouldn’t last a decade the way he’d tear through the town, and likely so wouldn’t a lot of other people. 

 _Figured,_  was all Damon could think with a resentful sigh.

“That’s not all,” Bonnie said, tentatively.

“What?” Damon snapped, irritated. “What else could you possibly want to undo, Bonnie?”

Bonnie locked eyes with him, and said, “Stefan’s death.”

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

One thing was for certain: Bonnie needed reinforcements.

Something that she had omitted in telling Damon was that performing the Spell of Undoing might kill her. At least, if Bonnie attempted it with her current reserves. Her mother’s attack and the brand on her right hand had left a lasting impression, and without time and rest, Bonnie would never make it back to full strength. Except time wasn’t on their side. If she wanted to resurrect Stefan, it needed to happen within a day, two tops. Any longer, and even a supernatural spell couldn’t undo that death. It needed to happen soon.

At her best, maybe Bonnie could have done it alone, but she knew it had taken her mother and Ethan both to get enough juice to power the spell, and Bonnie was nowhere near her best.

So, she did the smart thing. She called for backup: her first choice had been Lucy, her cousin twice removed. During college, Bonnie had managed to reconnect with the once-mysterious Bennett witch that she’d met during one of the town’s more fateful masquerade parties. They’d grown close over the years. But either Lucy was currently too busy or she wasn’t picking up calls; she had a habit of dropping off the face of the planet for long periods of time. In any case, Bonnie was on a time constraint. She turned to her backup plan, one she wasn’t particularly confident of, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

“I still can’t believe you have a coven,” Damon said to her, widening his eyes in comical surprise. “You think you would have mentioned that before.”

Bonnie sighed. “They’re not my coven,” she explained, yet again. “They’re just _a_ coven, a group of witches and warlocks that I met on campus. What did you think? I left Mystic Falls six years ago and fell into a black hole? I’ve been brushing up on my witchcraft near Salem, Massachusetts. You think I wouldn’t encounter any more people like me?”

"There aren't any other people like you," Damon said, and Bonnie wasn't sure, but she thought he'd just paid her a compliment.

Bonnie paused. “Anyway, I usually work better alone.”

Usually, she was not drained of nearly all her powers.

“Do you trust them?” he asked.

“We’re desperate, and I’m telling you, there’s no other way. I could try it by myself, but I’d most likely fail.” Or die in the process. “You got a better idea?” she asked him, and when he looked at her without answering, she tossed Damon her car keys. “You drive.”

Damon had already loaded Stefan’s body into the back and covered it up with an industrial tarp. No one told Elena. It was better if Bonnie waited to see if the spell worked first, before she raised Elena’s hope any. Damon agreed to justify their road trip with the cover story of needing reinforcements.

He hated her truck, but Bonnie didn’t feel like driving the three hours out of town. Damon quickly pulled the truck into reverse, and then floored the pedals until they were bouncing down the roadway and out of town. Bonnie hadn’t wanted the coven convening on the grounds of Mystic Falls, and she needed to get away from whatever source was draining her powers. When she’d called up Matte, her closest friend within the group, Bonnie had told her to meet up just outside the state border. Whatever magic needed to be done could be done there.

It was only about an hour and a half later that Bonnie realized her definition of reinforcement was different from Damon’s. While she’d assumed he’d head straight towards the rendezvous point to meet up with the coven, Damon eventually veered off course and Bonnie found herself on a back-trodden road near the western Virginia border.

“Damon, where are we?”

He switched off the radio, thankfully cutting off the classic rock music that had been blasting the entire trip. Bonnie detested classic rock. Damon had won the game of rock-paper-scissors, though, the only way the argument could have been settled without any bloodshed being spilt.

“Damon?” she prodded. “Now is not the time for a joyride.”

“Like you’d ever relax enough to enjoy a _ride,_ ” Damon mused, and his double-entendres were becoming so obvious, they were officially single-entendres. “We gotta meet up with someone here.”

“Who?” Bonnie asked in bewilderment.

She turned her head as the truck rolled to a stop at a small abandoned crossing. He pulled the truck into reverse, and parked it along the edge of the road, waiting. Bonnie opened her mouth to protest further, but then she caught sight of another truck coming down from the north. It was an old clunker like hers, and it looked vaguely familiar but Bonnie couldn’t place it. A second later, she realized why it was so recognizable. The other truck stopped, and the driver's side door opened to reveal a familiar face.

Alaric Saltzman pulled a shotgun free from the back of his truck, and walked over. “So," he mused, casually, "who are we fighting now?”

* * *

Alaric had moved three towns over after they’d all graduated high school. Bonnie remembered his farewell party, as much as she remembered anything from the days after her father had just died. Alaric had become a professor in some junior college, last she heard. That was over four years ago. She’d lost touch, but apparently Damon never had.

From a cursory look, it looked like Alaric hadn’t changed much, but Bonnie still felt like something had eased the strain he’d once carried with him. He looked more mellowed out, or less tense – but being away from Mystic Falls would do that to a person. His short cropped hair and the tight-fitted jeans reminded Bonnie why she’d always had a secret crush on him back in high school, before she realized that Mr. Saltzman was, like, Elena’s step-father, and the crush had just racked up too many levels of inappropriate for her to continue. Her high school career had been filled to the brim with those types of revelations.

Alaric scrubbed a hand across his face, absorbing the story that Damon had laid out for him, and glanced back at the tarp-covered body in the back of Bonnie’s truck. “Jesus,” he said, and looked to Damon, “You didn’t mention anything over the phone about Stefan dying.”

“We’re hoping to change that.”

“Yeah,” Alaric said, with a face. “But still…”

Damon looked away, and Bonnie could sense the undercurrent of forced nonchalance when he shrugged a shoulder. It was more than just an observation, though. Bonnie _felt_ it, like an echo of her own emotions underneath her skin. Damon’s agitation warred with his hope. Their lifebond was something she didn’t want to exploit more than necessary, so she simply focused on the stifling air of the summer heat in order to avoid thinking about the lingering grief that hung off Damon like bad cologne.

“You in or out?” Damon prodded. “Decide now. We’re on our way to meet some of Bonnie’s witchy friends, and I want someone I trust to watch our backs.”

Bonnie looked to him. “You don’t trust them already?”

Damon raised an eyebrow. “They’re your friends, not mine. Plus, witches. I know better than to relax around them.”

Bonnie didn’t know whether to take that as an insult or a veiled compliment. “Damon, I know that—”

“Honey, please,” Damon said, in faux-beseeching voice, and nodded towards Alaric, “let’s not fight in front of the kid. It scares him so.”

Alaric raised an eyebrow, but kept quiet. Bonnie was getting a little tired of all the _honeys, babies_ and even, once, a _Misses_ joke. She hoped this lifebond would end, and end soon – if only so Damon could stop teasing her about it.

Alaric leaned against the hood of his truck, and Bonnie sobered when she saw the look on his face. He scuffed a shoe against the dirt, and looked up at Damon. “'I've finally come to a place in my life where I’m at peace,” he told them, “and now you want me to dive back into the hunter life again.”

Damon gestured wide with his hands. “You can come back to your little Podunk town anytime. I just need to borrow you and your array of nifty little weapons for a short period of time.” He smirked, challenging, “C’mon, buddy, what’s the worse that can happen?”

“Around you?” Alaric shot back with a feigned glare. “The apocalypse.”

“Alaric,” Bonnie added. “We could use your help, but we have to move, and soon. I told the coven I’d meet them in an hour, and we’ve got some a lot of miles to cover.”

After a pause, Alaric released a breath and nodded. “What the hell? I was getting a little bored anyway.”

* * *

Alaric followed them in his own vehicle as Damon took Bonnie’s little shitty truck through the rest of Virginia. He knew why Bonnie kept this truck all these years, even though it was on the verge of breaking down every ten miles. It was her father’s car. It probably made her feel guilty as shit, but she was a glutton for punishment like that.

“I didn’t know you still kept in contact with Alaric,” Bonnie spoke up.

Damon shrugged. “Not everybody splits town and severs all ties.” He glanced over at her, flashing a biting smirk. “Just some.”

Bonnie tensed, well aware of his insinuations. “I didn’t sever all ties.”

“Yeah, sure. Tell me again, why couldn’t you make it down to Caroline’s wedding again?”

Bonnie flushed. “I couldn’t make it back into town because I was interviewing to get into my Graduate Program. They couldn’t reschedule.”

“Yeah. You’d die to protect her, but God forbid you don’t get into your dream program because of the most important day of her unlife. What the hell are you mastering in, anyway? _Women’s History in Wicca_?”

“Caroline understood,” Bonnie challenged, then intensified her glare. “Why do you even care, anyway? Seriously, Damon, what is up with all the pointed remarks about my leaving? You’re the only one that’s given me grief since I came back. Well, besides Jeremy, and him I can understand. Why are you acting like I abandoned _you_?”

“Have I? Hadn’t noticed.”

“Bullshit,” she called. “What is your damage?”

Damon let the silence stew between them, unwilling to answer. Yeah, he knew his comments had been snide and he didn’t really have the justification for it. Elena and Caroline had more reason to be upset, but the girls had never resented Bonnie over her decision to leave. Bonnie had her reasons, and Damon may have even respected a few of them, but fuck it. He was a hypocritical ass. It bugged the crap out of Damon that when she’d left, their lives had become exponentially more difficult.

Maybe it was lazy of him, but Damon had gotten used to having a handy witch around. She hadn’t been at his beck and call, but she’d saved his ass more than a dozen times over in her senior year alone. But in the years that followed Bonnie’s departure, an increasing level of supernatural forces had befallen over Mystic Falls. They could have used her help, a hundred and one times – a few of those times, they’d nearly died. And Bonnie, for her all her preaching and shouldering the responsibilities of the world, had left them high and dry.

Not to mention, he’d thought he’d grown to be one of her friends over the years, and when she’d left town, she hadn’t even bother to fucking say goodbye to him. He just woke up one morning, and Elena told him, _“She’s gone, Damon,”_ and he’d felt like a chump for feeling disappointed she’d left without even bothering with a farewell.

Damon hated feeling like a chump.

“Are we there yet?” Damon demanded, changing the topic.

Bonnie sighed and looked away, letting the matter drop. “Take the next turn and keep on the left. It’s coming up.”

* * *

Bonnie glanced at her watch and realized they were a little late, but when they arrived at the rendezvous point, it was empty. She felt apprehension fester in the pit of her stomach. Maybe the others hadn’t received her message? Or maybe they had, and didn’t show up anyway?

“So I guess we’re not fashionably late after all,” Damon commented. “The first kids to the party are always the lamest.”

Bonnie climbed out of the truck, eager for the excuse to put some distance between her and Damon. Four hours in the car with him, and she didn't know whether it was the proximity or the lifebond or just Damon's natural personality shining through, but Bonnie felt like she had just spent an entire week with him. Alaric pulled up a second later, and the three of them stood in the middle of open meadow, just as the sun was descending towards the horizon. There were a thicket of trees in the distance and a few hills nearby. Bonnie shaded her eyes with her hand, distracted only briefly by the pentagram symbol that was still etched into her skin like a brand. If she looked over at Damon, she’d see the matching set.

A second later, she heard noises from a distance. Bonnie looked beyond a small hill to the left of them, and made out the sounds of faint laughter. She took off without waiting for Damon or Alaric. Just over the hill, Bonnie found what she was looking for.

A group of people had started a picnic; three of them were guys, all shirtless and throwing Frisbees at each other. Another three girls made up the rest of the bunch, aging from seventeen to twenty-one. Bonnie was older than all of them, and even Bonnie knew she wasn’t all that old to begin with. The coven was young and impressionable, but they were a good bunch – and gifted, too. She’d done things with them that she hadn’t been able to do just by herself.

Matte, the one Bonnie had contacted, looked up and waved. “Hey, Bonnie! Hope you don’t mind, but we’d thought we’d have a picnic.”

Damon stopped behind her, leaning forward, well into her person space. “So,” he drawled into her ear, “something tells me you didn’t convey the gravity of the situation to them.”

Bonnie glared back at him. “What was I supposed to say? Drop everything and meet me, so I can bring my best friend’s vampire boyfriend back from the dead?”

Damon paused. “Point and sarcasm both duly noted.”

Bonnie turned back to the crowd, and took a few seconds making the introductions all around. There was Andrew and Davis, guys in their freshman year of undergrad. Marcus was in the back, grabbing a cold beer from the cooler. Matte and the two other girls, Heather and Teresa, were all lounging on the blankets. Teresa, a girl just barely out of high school, was wearing a bikini top, sunbathing – and there was barely any sun left out. She smiled up at Damon in the most obvious of ways. Damon, being Damon, smirked back.

Alaric traded a look with Bonnie, and she could tell what he was thinking without him even voicing the concern. The group didn’t inspire the best of confidence, but though they may have been young – and perhaps, a bit on the immature side – they were powerful. Bonnie couldn’t be picky under the circumstances.

Someone called out Bonnie’s name from behind, and she turned, surprised, to find another person joining the group. This one was different. Benjamin Wittiker, Matte’s older brother. At six feet, seven inches, he stopped to loom over Bonnie’s small form, all 180 pounds of him. He scooped her up into a hug before she could recover from the shock of finding him here. He’d graduated the previous summer, and she hadn’t seen him since.

“What are you doing here?” Bonnie managed, pulling back from him.

“Matte called, said she thought I could be of help.” He stopped, dropping his voice into a faint whisper. “Besides, I saw this weirdest vision this morning…”

Bonnie stilled. He was almost as old as Bonnie, and definitely the most talented in the group. He’d been a little reserved when Bonnie had approached the coven, at first. But over time, she’d come to realize that Ben had the strongest sense of clairvoyance she’d ever known, stronger than even her own visions.

“What did you see?” Bonnie asked, tentatively.

He looked up, and stared at Damon over her shoulder. “Him.”

Damon came over, rocking on his heels back and forth. “Me? Aww, I feel special.” He glanced at Bonnie. “Aren’t you gonna introduce us, sweetie-pie?”

Bonnie threw him a glare. “Damon, this is Ben. Ben, this is a jackass named Damon Salvatore.”

Damon thrust forward his hand for a shake, but Ben looked hesitant to take it. Bonnie wondered what his vision of Damon had shown, but it obviously hadn’t been the good kind. Ben shook his hand reluctantly, then pulled it back quickly and moved instead to introduce himself to Alaric.

“Nice guy,” Damon commented. “Boyfriend?”

Bonnie turned away without even dignifying that with a response.

* * *

“No fucking way,” were the first words out of Ben’s mouth, and despite the colorful language, it only proved that he was indeed the most level-headed individual among the rest of the coven. “Are you insane? You want to bring a vampire back to life?”

Bonnie felt her apprehension growing by the second. “I know how bad it sounds,” she said. “Trust me, I know. But Stefan is different. You know me. I wouldn’t be asking you this if I didn’t know for certain that—”

A girlish scream tore through the sky. Everybody looked back to find Teresa pale and wide-eyed, near the bed of Bonnie’s truck. “Sorry!” she breathed, dropping the tarp back into place. “I just wanted a look at the body. I didn’t know it was going to look so… _creepy._ ”

Damon turned towards Bonnie. “You’ve got to be shitting me with this group, right?”

“Hey,” Matte cut in, annoyed. “Easy there with sarcasm, buddy. Excuse us for showing some hesitation when messing with oldest of the old magic.”

“We’re in,” one of the guys called from the back, suddenly. Bonnie turned to find Andrew and Davis trading a look, and both nodded. “This sounds pretty cool, actually.”

“No,” Bonnie exclaimed, harshly. She sighed, and reigned in her aggravation. “This is not cool. Look, guys, I need your help, but you have to also understand the gravity of the situation. This is deep magic here. We’re going to be unraveling the very essence of fundamental supernatural laws. We’re going to undo death.”

There was a beat, and Teresa breathed, “This is getting way too surreal.”

Bonnie had no way to refute that. “If you want to back away, I won’t blame you or hold it against you—”

“I will,” Damon cut in, holding up a hand. “This is my brother we’re talking about. There will be a lot of ill-will and anger if you guys don’t help out with this.”

Bonnie turned to him. “Damon, do me a favor? Don’t help me right now.”

“Whatever, sweetheart,” Damon tossed back, annoyed. “This is bogus, anyway. A bunch of frat boys and sorority sisters are going to pull off the spell of a lifetime?” He started walking away. “Call me when they hit puberty, and then maybe we can—”

A wall of fire suddenly sprang up, blocking Damon’s path. He turned around, and found Matte muttering a spell under her breath. She opened her eyes, and raised an eyebrow.

“Matte,” Bonnie warned her off.

The wall dropped, leaving behind scorched grass. The point had been made – though young, Bonnie had seen each and every one of these kids demonstrate an intense amount of power. She’d been trying to coach them on their responsibilities and uses of those powers, but oftentimes it was like herding cats. They were good people, though. Not a single one among them had touched dark magic, or showed the inclination to do so.

“You’re asking a lot,” Ben said, capturing Bonnie's attention again. “This type of magic, it’s unpredictable. You open that door, and who knows what comes through it.”

Bonnie was more than well aware of that. Jeremy’s predicament was just one unintended side effect, and who knew what else could happen? Stefan’s death weighed on her conscience, but was Bonnie letting the guilt of her mother’s actions lead her down a parallel path? Was she going to become the thing she swore to prevent?

Ben was looking over the grimoire and skimming the spell. “Do you have this red stone?”

Bonnie hesitated, then pulled out the small stone that had been resting in her pocket for the better part of the day. The Moonstone. Damon had kept it safely hidden all these years, and now it was going to be a key ingredient in yet another life-altering spell.

"Is that..." Alaric started, paling.

Bonnie nodded. "Yes."

Alaric became strangely quiet after that, probably thinking about the Sun and the Moon Curse. This Moonstone had been bred for a violent climax, and it felt wrong all of a sudden holding it in her hands. Like she was defiling the memory of Jenna and everyone else that had died because of it and all the power-hungry people that had chased it across the world and over millenniums.

She tried to refocus. "It's not that red stone in the grimoire, but a conduit that can hopefully hold just as much power.”

Ben stared at the Moonstone in doubt. “You sure?”

She tossed him the Moonstone, and Ben caught it. “Whoa,” he breathed, looking down at the thing in awe. Even already drained of power, the residue of what it once contained was enough to make any witch or warlock take notice. Ben tested the feel of it in his hands, then looked up, “Yeah, but… it’s been drained, hasn’t it? The type of spell you’re talking about—”

“It’ll last,” Bonnie assured. “Maybe not unlimited, but once or twice? Maybe even three times, this Moonstone will hold up. It’ll hold the power necessary.”

Ben took a breath, then tossed the stone back to Bonnie but Damon appeared in between and deftly intercepted it. He flashed a smile and tucked it into his pocket for safekeeping.

“This will have consequences,” Ben said again. “You can’t do this level of interference in the natural order of things, and expect there not to be consequences. Where magic is concerned, the basic principles are always the same. Light and dark. Balance must be maintained.”

“Which is a way of saying what?” Damon drawled in irritation.

Ben glared at the condescending attitude reeking off of Damon. “It means, in laymen’s terms, for something that is dead to live, there must be balance. Something alive has to _die_. A spell has to be extremely off the charts for it to break those rules. You’re talking about creating life from nothing. Is that even possible?”

“Anything is possible,” Bonnie said, faintly, because she’d seen more than a few natural laws of magic broken in her time. “A vampire, in essence, is a life devoid of life. The balance is already broken.”

Ben looked at her, incredulous. “You’re talking about dark magic. Not old magic, but _black_ magic. The thing that created vampires.”

Ben was voicing all the concerns she was trying so desperately to overrule, but God, she had no way of denying that. Everything about this spell – it was too powerful, too uncontrollable and unpredictable. She had no way of knowing what could happen, and Jeremy was already a shining example of what could go sideways.

Suddenly, staring at this young and earnest group, Bonnie felt her misgivings take control. It was just asking for too much. She wanted it so badly, but it was just asking for too mu—

“No,” Damon interrupted her thoughts, “No fucking way you’re backing out of this, Bonnie.”

She turned to him. “Damon...”

She started to plead for him to calm down, but one look at his blazing eyes left her certain that any reasoning would be futile. It was a brother’s grief that stared her in the face, and a brother’s anger that made Damon get in hers.

“You don’t get to back away from this,” he told her, livid. “Not from this.”

“Damon,” Alaric called, suddenly holding him back by the arm. “Ease off, man.”

Damon shoved him off, and pointed a finger in Bonnie’s face. “We’re doing this. _You’re_ doing this. I don’t care if it’s fucking black magic and we have to sacrifice a blonde virgin to get it done. You’re getting my brother back!”

The others stared in shock, watching. Bonnie’s breath came out ragged when Damon tore himself away and began striding off towards the nearby hill. She could feel his anger rising, his betrayal at her hesitation – it was digging into her sides, like a poisoned thorn, and she felt every ounce of his grief like it was her own. Damon would do anything to get his brother back. It was a desperate, naked want – and _she_ had been the one to raise that hope. She was the one responsible for this.

She had to be the one to handle it, then.

Bonnie turned back to the others, finally acknowledging this clusterfuck of an idea for what it was. She couldn’t ask these kids for help; it wasn’t right. They were too young and impressionable to know what they were getting into, and Bonnie couldn’t take advantage of that in good conscience, no matter how desperate she was.

“I’m sorry I wasted your time,” she told everyone. “I… don’t worry about anything. I’ve got it.”

Alaric called to her when she turned away, but Bonnie continued up the hill to follow after Damon.

* * *

Bonnie was having trouble dragging air into her lungs. She wanted to run away, drive back to Mystic Falls – or drive anywhere _but_ Mystic Falls – and pretend she wasn’t feeling everything Damon was feeling. It was intense, the pure definition of agony. The grief was mixed in with pain and anger, and it created a toxic cocktail. Bonnie didn’t know how Damon managed to keep standing. Her only connection to the emotions was a tenuous thread through their lifebond, and that was strong enough to wreck her ability to walk across to the wooded area.

When she found him, he had his hands braced against a tree, head bent low, breathing hard. She’d thought she’d already seen the fruits of what happened when he wallowed in the depths of his despair, when she’d found him after that car accident over a day ago, but this… this was too raw and fresh. This was him truly at his lowest. The hope of getting his brother back, dangled in front of him and then cruelly yanked away – Bonnie felt ashamed in her part in it.

“Damon,” she whispered, afraid of what she’d face.

He tilted his head up, and she expected to see anger, but instead there was just pain. Pure anguish. _God, how could somebody feel so much pain?_ He took a shuddering breath and then slammed his hand against the bark of the tree. He did it again and again, and she saw the scrape of blood on his fingers. He didn’t stop until he was gasping, until he had to lean against the same tree trunk that he had just bloodied. He dropped his shoulders and his forehead against the bark, sucking in air.

Bonnie approached him with the same trepidation she would a feral animal. It wasn’t her place to witness this, but there was no one else and she’d offer what comfort she could.

She grabbed his wrist, then put a hand over his shredded knuckles. "It’s going to be okay," she whispered. “It's going to be okay.”

She’d learned a long time ago never to make that promise or any other like it, but Bonnie couldn’t stare at Damon and think of anything else to say. It tore her apart to see him like this.

“It should have been me,” he choked out, in something barely above a whisper. It sounded like a confession, but Bonnie didn’t understand the meaning until he added, “I should have been the one that died. Not him.”

Bonnie felt the wind knocked out of her. She tugged him around to face her, and cupped his face, forcing his eyes to her. "No, Damon,” she said, firmly. “That’s not true. That’s _not true_.”

His eyes were desperate, naked; he looked as lost as a defenseless child after a beating. “He’s not coming back, is he?”

 _God._

“Yes,” she told him, earnestly. “Yes, he is. Okay, Damon, I promise. You hear me? I’ll bring Stefan back. I promise.”

And she’d do it, too. She suddenly realized that for Damon alone, she’d defy the laws of any nature, supernatural or otherwise. She heard his breath catch slickly in his throat. He held her gaze for an agonizing moment, and then he broke.

His mouth landed on hers, wet and hot and shocking. He opened her mouth with his own, tangling their tongues, seizing her lips, and shock kindled with a desire. The lifebond flared. His hands were everywhere, clutching with bruising force at her sides, fisting so tightly in her hair that it should have hurt a little, but it didn’t. He flipped her around and pushed her up against the tree, kissing her the entire time. She knew this had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with relief, with a sense of losing himself in an oblivion she could only offer, and she offered him that willingly. She’d give him that. Her body came to life under his advances, and she never thought to pull away until he felt him break for air.

In the aftermath, they both tried to regain some control and it was nearly impossible. Damon leaned against her, his face inches away from hers so that she felt every breath of air he puffed out. His hands were braced on either side of her, pinning her beneath him against the tree. She felt uncertain and overwhelmed, and his eyes burned into hers when they locked.

Somewhere along the way, at some point during the last few days, she’d chosen the impossible task of becoming his savior. It was insane, and she should have known better, _she should have._

But, apparently, she didn’t.


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

The quicker she got out of there, Bonnie realized, the more likely she’d leave with her dignity still intact.

The coven was wrapping up their belongings, loading their picnic leftovers into the backs of their cars, and the entire time Bonnie could only think, in a distant haze, that she had just kissed Damon Salvatore. _Where the hell did that come from?_ The notion was foreign and overwhelming, and even though it had felt the most natural response to the predicament at the time - in the aftermath Bonnie was left floundering.

The lifebond had flared. Bonnie had felt it. For the first time, she was beginning to suspect that the complications of this connection with Damon was far more complex that she’d ever dared to dream. It had its hooks in them now, and a part of Bonnie wondered if it was nothing more than the lifebond’s influence on them that had made her act out so impetuously.

Another part of her wondered if she was just looking for excuses.

“Bonnie,” Ben called, catching up to her. “You all right? You guys disappeared for a while.”

Bonnie was thankful that it was too dark to notice that she was fighting off a blush, even if the full moon was just around the corner. She drew her arms around her waist, and fended off a chill.

“I appreciate you guys coming down,” Bonnie said. "I'm sorry it was for nothing."

“I’m just sorry we couldn’t help more,” Ben replied, then looked to his left in annoyance.

From some distance, Damon was watching them like a hawk – or more specifically, watching _her_ like a hawk. She’d felt his stare glued to her form ever since the kiss, when all Bonnie wanted to do was avoid him. Ben pulled her to the side by the arm, behind a tree so that they were hidden from Damon’s line of sight.

“I don’t think you’re doing the right thing,” Ben said, worried, “trying to take this spell on by yourself.”

“I know, but…” Bonnie trailed off.

She’d promised, and she felt like she owed Damon this. It came down to a decision, but in the end, it felt like she really had no choice at all. Stefan was going to live. She’d make sure of that.

“Stefan is my friend, and if I can help bring him back to life, then I’m going to do it.”

Ben stared at her, then his eyes lifted to where Damon stood. “Is this about that guy?”

Bonnie felt her defenses go up. “This is about doing what’s right.”

“What’s right can get you killed.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time. Look, I appreciate your concern, but I’m doing this. Nothing you can say will change my mind.”

Ben held her gaze, then dropped it. “I had a vision of Damon. Bonnie, he was standing over your dead body.” She sucked in a breath and had to remind herself to exhale again. Ben continued in a whisper, “Look, you know as well as I do how unreliable a vision can be, but I don’t know how to interpret that any differently. You were in some type of cellar, some dungeon-type place or something. He was standing over your body, and you weren’t breathing.”

Bonnie tried to absorb that information, but it felt too surreal. “Have you told anybody else this?”

“No.”

“Good,” she declared. “Don’t.”

“Bonnie—”

“Ben,” she started quickly, but stopped and took a breath. She started all over again, this time with an old familiar determination that Bonnie drew on in situations like this. “I know how this looks, but sometimes things get bloody. I’ve been through a lot in my life. Death doesn’t scare me, but you know what does? Choosing to do nothing when I know I could have changed things for the better.”

“How does your death help anyone?”

“If it saves the lives of my friends, then it does.”

Ben shook his head. “You’re insane.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

Ben stared at her, and then took a deep breath, coming to terms with something. “All right, then you’re going to need a boost, at least.” He turned back to the crowd at large, and hollered, “Guys! Gather around!”

Bonnie wasn’t following, until she saw the coven forming a circle and Ben was tugging her into the center. He shouted out a few other instructions, and Bonnie came to a sudden realization: an enhancement spell. The others were going to temporarily lend Bonnie their magical powers, in essence giving her the power she’d need to perform the Spell of Undoing by herself. It shot a ray of hope through her. Yes, with this – with this she might be able to do it the right way. The others must have already talked it over and agreed, because she saw them join hands without question. Ben led the prayer. Bonnie stood in the center, and to the side, on the outskirts of the circle, Alaric and Damon watched in bewilderment.

 _“Tribuo suus vox nostrum,”_ Ben chanted. _“Permissum suus engulf nos.”_

The others repeated the chant. The wind picked up, and Bonnie felt something flare inside of her. Not her lifebond, something else. The charge of power surged, first slowly, then like a rising tide. Bonnie could feel the others' magical powers infusing into her, restoring her depleted reserves. Seven witches and warlocks, all powerful in their own right, but it wasn’t long before Bonnie realized their gift was just acting as a catalyst in reviving hers. Bonnie held the power of a hundred witches inside her. For the first time in days, she felt that strength returning to her.

When it was over, Bonnie opened her eyes and breathed deeply.

Her powers were back.

* * *

The pentagram on her right hand had disappeared. She didn’t yet look, but she knew that Damon’s matching brand must have also vanished. Whatever hex that her mother had cast on Bonnie had lost its influence, and now that she knew what to anticipate, it wouldn’t happen again.

The others left after a quick farewell and Bonnie’s warmest thanks. Ben dropped a kiss onto her cheek, and she hugged Matte a farewell, and she watched them ride off.

“So,” Alaric said. “What’s the plan now?”

“Unload Stefan’s body off the truck,” Bonnie told him. “There’s no time like the present.”

Alaric and Damon traded a brief look, and then Alaric quietly nodded and left for the truck.

“You sure?” Damon asked, and it was the first thing he’d said to her since that moment in the woods. “You think you can do this?”

“Yes,” Bonnie answered, though her voice carried more confidence that she held. “Set up the candles, and draw a pentagram on the grass with the rock-salt. We’ll do this out here.”

Damon watched her, but Bonnie couldn’t hold his stare. She turned away, and began preparations. They worked side-by-side in silence. It was too awkward, and there were too many questions swirling in her head at the moment. She didn’t know what that kiss meant, or what it hinted at – she just knew the memory of the kiss was a distraction neither of them needed right now. The lifebond was screwing with them, provoking reactions in her that she never would have done sober. Or, maybe, it was just augmenting feelings that Bonnie always repressed? She didn’t know which, and it wasn’t the time to figure it out – but Bonnie remained distracted.

She’d always seen him as a friend, but if she was honest with herself, there had always been an undercurrent of attraction and chemistry that was hard for her to deny. That chemistry had flared during the kiss just as much as the lifebond had.

They’d never done anything of it before, of course. She’d never even bothered to examine their relationship at closer detail. Why bother? She didn’t want a boyfriend like Damon Salvatore, and he was too busy sending mooneyes across the room at Elena. It was a hopeless situation, and Bonnie had never been one to suffer grand delusions in the name of love.

Yes, Bonnie confirmed it to herself. She and Damon? Would never be anything more than friends.

It was the lifebond that was screwing with them.

“Damon,” she called, and turned around to face him. “We need to sever the lifebond.”

Damon looked surprised, lifting an eyebrow. “We do?”

Bonnie nodded, no-nonsense. “It’s served its purpose. Now it’s just affecting our judgment, and we need to be clearheaded.”

Damon tipped his head a little, suddenly amused. “It’s affecting our judgment?”

“Yes. The…” she blushed, and hated herself for it. “The kiss? It was obviously the lifebond.”

Damon stared at her, a dark look in his eyes that seemed to swallow her whole. The kiss was still too fresh in her mind, and for a beat it felt like she was reliving it – or maybe Damon was playing over the memory in his head? Their lifebond flared, with something like heat and confusion and solace, a mix of emotions too schizophrenic for her to name. Then the sting of rejection registered, and Damon tried to slam the lifebond shut.

He released a puff of air and turned away. He was agitated or angry, and she didn’t know what he was thinking. God, she’d pay money to find out – but she suddenly knew he’d also considered the possibility of the kiss being nothing more than their lifebond reacting to intense emotions. He was just as confused about the kiss as she was, maybe even more-so.

He played it cool. “You know,” he mused, lightly, turning back to her, “I love how you automatically go for the excuse of the lifebond. It is really that out there that you’d want to jump my bones?”

“Damon,” she replied, and struggled for some rational response. Then she figured it’d be better, safer, if they fell back into old patterns. “I’d rather kiss a corpse.”

Hurt flashed, but he covered it up so quickly that Bonnie wondered if she’d imagined it. “That can be arranged, y’know?” he drawled, then nodded his head to where Alaric had left. “Stefan wouldn’t mind.”

 _Ugh._ Bonnie turned away. How could he be falling apart and an emotional wreck one moment, and then an hour later, the same egotistical playboy that drove her up the wall? She went about lighting the last of the candles, refusing to focus on that moment where she’d felt his bite of rejection. She didn’t know what to think of that.

It didn't matter in the end, though. Bonnie knew she was about to perform a dangerous spell, and even though she felt once again at her best, there was no predicting the consequences. It was better for Damon not be tied to her while that went down. If, God forbid, she did suffer the worst consequences of this spell, there was no point in making Damon tag along for the ride.

“So,” Bonnie mustered, once again facing him. “We’re agreed on breaking the lifebond?”

“Depends,” Damon threw back, rocking on his heels. “Any side effects?”

“Some,” Bonnie said, downplaying it a little. It’d take away some of her energy and some of his, but now thanks to the coven, she had some to spare. “Fatigue, mainly. I didn’t have the luxury of doing this before because I was already on low reserves, but now… it’s really straightforward. Usually the bond should have gone away on its own, but we’ve…” she paused, a little flustered, “we’ve done things to reinforce it. We, uh, have to break it forcefully now or it’ll just grow stronger.”

"And we wouldn't want that, now would we?"

His wryness was just a little too wry.

Damon let silence settle in for a beat, then nodded and shrugged lightly. “Sure. Why the hell not?”

It wasn't the most agreeable response, but Bonnie had to take it.

“Let’s get this over with,” Bonnie said, waving him forward. “Close your eyes.”

Damon did a dramatic eye roll, but there was a moment of uncertainty that she picked up. After a beat, he finally came forward and followed her instructions. She was hesitant to take hold of his hand. He suddenly felt like forbidden fruit, something she shouldn’t touch. Bonnie drew a breath and grabbed his hands, forming a small circle between them. The lifebond flickered again, just a little. It was becoming dangerous; any contact between them was only reinforcing the connection. It was good they were severing it; Bonnie didn’t want that type of influence affecting her judgment anymore.

She refused to acknowledge the hint of disappointment inside, small and kindling, or the possibility that the lifebond wasn’t affecting her judgment as much as she was claiming.

“ _Hoc vinculum,_ ” she began, unsteadily. “ _Permissum is discerpo quod permissum is vado. Nos es non unus anymore, tamen duos._ ”

The wind picked up, and Bonnie felt the lifebond tighten at first, like there was a desperate grab to maintain the link instead of sever it. Bonnie continued the Latin. The wind whipped around them, sparks of electricity flickering off between their touching digits. Her hair flared around her face like a crown, and she felt Damon’s hand squeezing hers, almost painfully. The magic spiked, and then the jolt of energy rushed out of her body. Damon’s breath exhaled in that same exact moment.

Bonnie opened her eyes, taking a breath.

Damon wavered on his feet, suddenly unsteady. He stared at her, a look akin to the one he’d given her back in the woods, naked and exposed. She felt just as off-balanced. The wake of the spell left a void inside her, and Bonnie needed a second to find her bearings again.

The lifebond had been severed. There was nothing left.

“Uh,” someone spoke up, awkwardly, shattering the moment. They both whipped their heads back to find Alaric holding the white tarp from one end. Stefan’s body was inside. “Should I leave you two alone?”

Bonnie dropped Damon’s hands as if burned. “No. Uh, it’s all right.” She tried to refocus, but it was like jumping hurdles in the middle of a sprint. She fumbled, at first. “Just, uh, put the body in the center of the pentagram.”

Alaric was still studying both of them in bewilderment, but he did as told without question. The rest of the arrangements were made in this deafening, awkward silence that Bonnie hated. She refused to look back at Damon, but a sound drew her attention and she turned to find Damon settling down on the ground, like he was exhausted. Their eyes connected, just for a second, and then Bonnie snapped her gaze away again.

The tiredness would only be temporary. Damon would be fine.

“Okay,” she said, turning back to Alaric. “Now you two both need to leave.”

“What?” Damon demanded. “What do you mean leave?”

“Do you remember what happened to Jeremy? No spectators in this spell. It’s just me and Stefan’s body.”

Damon’s eyes flashed with annoyance. “And what are we supposed to do?”

“I don’t know. Walk – or better yet, drive away. At least a mile. I want nothing and no one nearby when I do this spell.”

Bonnie felt some confidence returning, now that they were getting back to things that made sense and felt familiar. Like, apparently, performing life-altering spells. She could tell Damon didn’t like the idea, but in the end he couldn’t argue with her about it because she was right. He tried to lift on his feet, but breaking the lifebond had taken a lot out of him; more than it had for her. He only managed to stand when Alaric walked over and gave him a helping hand.

“Good luck,” Alaric said to her, as they passed her by.

Bonnie watched as Alaric deposited Damon into the passenger seat of his truck without comment. He went around the front, and quickly got into the driver’s seat. The entire time, Damon was watching her. Alaric turned on the headlights and Bonnie flinched, standing in the halo. She raised her hand to block out the glare, and found her eyes connecting with Damon yet again.

He nodded to her, just once.

Alaric started the engine and drove away.

* * *

“Do I even want to know what that was between you and Bonnie back there?” Alaric asked him.

Damon pretended not to hear, resting his head against the headrest. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Christ, severing the lifebond had taken more out of him than he’d expected. He was tired and a little sore, and there was this… this void, this absence that he couldn’t even define. He’d only been lifebonded with Bonnie for a little over a day, but it felt like it was more significant than that. He didn’t know what to tell Alaric; how to even begin explaining what had just happened when Damon couldn’t wrap his head around it himself.

“Just drive,” he instructed Alaric.

The next few minutes were soaked up in silence, but Damon’s thoughts were a whirl. Somewhere out there, Bonnie was doing a spell that would bring Stefan back to life. He tried not to focus on it, tried to keep his hopes realistic. He’d already had that hope dashed once tonight, and the fallout from that had left him spiraling out of control. He couldn’t let that happen again.

He had to focus on other things, out of sheer fucking self-preservation of sanity if nothing else.

It was ironic how easily his distraction was found, and centered around a certain tiny witch. He thought back to the kiss. What the hell had that been about? It was just so typical of Damon to lash out with lust in a moment of self-destruction, but this was the first time he’d targeted Bonnie in such a moment. Why had she responded? The lifebond had made things complicated, and Damon still couldn’t sort out what he’d felt in that moment. Was it genuine? Was it real?

He’d felt… a spark. Something real and heavy, and something he’d only felt with two other women his entire life, amongst an endless barrage of meaningless kisses, fucks and one-night stands. Had that been real, or just the lifebond acting up?

Now, with a clearing head, he could focus. He could figure it out.

… or he could just obsess about it without ever figuring it out.

Both options were equally likely.

“Shit,” Damon muttered, and rubbed his hand over his eyes. He noticed for the first time that the pentagram symbol had disappeared. “Stop the truck. We’ve driven long enough.”

Alaric pulled the car to the side of the road and killed the engine. They sat in silence. In the distance, a storm gathered overhead. Damon knew it was an unnatural kind, something provoked by magic. There was no other call for such a strange turn in weather.

“Do you think she can do it?” Alaric asked, studying the forming clouds. “Do you think she can really bring Stefan back to life?”

Damon let loose a slow exhale. “If anybody could do it, Bonnie can.”

* * *

Stefan’s body looked like something out of a horror movie. Bonnie tried not to focus on it, but nervousness had crept into the pit of her stomach, and her eyes kept getting drawn to his face. It was pale, and lifeless, a solid ashen statue. It looked nothing like Stefan did in life, and Bonnie tried not to focus on the weight of what she was about to do.

She was going to undo death.

There were spells, and then there were _spells._ This one was the latter. She found herself thinking of Jeremy, that moment when he’d died back in her junior year of high school. How desperate she’d been; how she’d refused to heed the witches’ warnings, and had forced life back into his body. The consequences of that action had left Jeremy with the curse of hearing the dead for the rest of his life. It wasn’t a gift, she knew. Hearing the dead was as much of a burden to him as Bonnie’s powers were to her, at times.

Bonnie had always carried the guilt of that, even if she was ultimately glad of the decision because it had saved Jeremy’s life.

This spell was something else, though. Bringing back a _vampire_ from the dead. There would be consequences, and Bonnie couldn’t even fathom to guess what they would be.

“All right,” she said to herself, bracing the moment with a deep breath. “Let’s do this.”

The candles ignited. Bonnie drew in her power, and then exhaled slowly. She began the chant at slow tempo, careful to say each word and syllable with the correct pronunciation. A misspoken word could end in disaster, and this spell was already volatile enough. It was a long recitation. Bonnie kept going from memory alone, stopping only briefly to study her mother’s grimoire to confirm she was doing everything right.

Somewhere about halfway through, the magic took over with a mind of its own.

The words flowed from her lips naturally, without thought or concentration. The power within her flared. She felt the spell seep her magic, little at first, barely making a dent in the building crescendo of her powers, but then as time went on, Bonnie felt the drain on her powers take hold. Pain trickled in. Bonnie staggered a little, then uprighted herself and continued.

Her nose began to bleed.

A storm gathered. Bonnie stretched out her arms and continued chanting, but it became more and more difficult. She couldn’t breathe. The pain intensified. Somewhere along the way, electricity began to discharge from her fingertips and Bonnie felt its burn. Her arms seemed on fire, heavy and weighed down. Her nose bled, then her eyes and ears. She cried out, and yet kept chanting.

A mindless time later, lightning struck the ground.

“ _Restituo vita. Laxo nex,_ ” she finished.

Bonnie dropped to her knees, weak and delirious. Her vision blurred and ebbed away, fading into darkness. Before it did, Bonnie managed to open her eyes, and found Stefan’s body moving. She coughed, and looked, watching as energy flooded the pale statue of his body, restoring color and life. He gasped awake, coming to in an instant.

Relief tore through her like a torrent.

Stefan looked around wildly in naked confusion, and found her. “Bonnie? What’s going—”

She passed out.

* * *

The silence had stretched so long in the truck that Damon had lost track of time. He wondered how Bonnie was fairing, and a few hours ago he might've had a better idea through their bond. Damon wondered what it meant that he felt… _disappointed_ that his lifebond with Bonnie had lasted only a day. Damon realized he wouldn’t have minded sticking it out for longer, even exploring what it meant – and Christ, that was a dumb idea, wasn’t it? It was good they’d severed it, he knew. He hadn’t been as sure at the time when Bonnie had first suggested it. He’d followed along because it had been what Bonnie wanted.

Now, though, he’d wondered if they’d just blown an opportunity.

Damon’s cell rang, and both him and Alaric flinched against the sound. Damon grabbed his phone, reading the caller ID as Bonnie.

Damon answered it quickly, “Speak to me.”

 _“Hey, it’s me. I just woke up in the middle of some field, and Bonnie’s passed out. I have no idea what’s going on.”_

It took a full second for Damon to register it, to recognize the familiar male voice on the other end of the call, and even then he almost couldn’t believe it. “Stefan?” he breathed out.

 _“Yes,”_ came the response, quickly, laced with confusion. _“Where are you? What’s going on?”_

“Hold on!” Damon gasped, straightening. He snapped his fingers at Alaric to start the car, and the engine quickly roared to life as Damon said, “Hold on! I know where you are. We’re nearby. We’ll be there in a sec. Just hold on!”

 _“Hurry,”_ Stefan declared, and hung up before Damon could respond.

They made it back in record time, but the trip still seemed aggravatingly long for Damon. His body felt on fire with impatience, too eager to make it back to the field to see his brother. Stefan’s voice had sounded so normal, so confused – he had no idea that he’d just been brought back to life. And Bonnie – she was passed out. Damon felt the swell of concern, but he wouldn’t jump to conclusions. She’d be all right. He needed to get back there and see for himself, but everything would be all right now. Damon was sure of it.

When they arrived, Alaric pulled the truck to a stop with a deep lurch. The headlights shown over the grass field, and in the middle, Stefan was crouched over Bonnie’s body. Stefan looked up, wincing against the glare of light. Damon could only stare for a second, and despite the eagerness that had been building, Damon threw open the door and climbed out slowly. He almost couldn’t believe his eyes, but Stefan was alive and whole.

“She’s breathing steady,” Stefan told them, face pinched with concern as he rose to his feet. “But I don’t know what’s wrong with her.”

Damon’s legs carried him across the space. “Yeah,” he said, in false-lightness. “She just undid death. It’d knock the wind out of anybody.”

“What—” Stefan began, and was cut off.

Damon grabbed him into a hug. Stefan exhaled sharply, and his arms spread out a little in surprise. Then he patted Damon’s back in a confused little gesture that was endearing and so typically _Stefan_ , offering comfort even when he didn’t have the faintest clue why comfort was needed in the first place. Damon could almost laugh, and did a little, the relief and elation of that moment making him a little delirious.

“Welcome back, Stefan,” Alaric called, from somewhere over Damon’s shoulder. “You were just brought back from the dead.”

Stefan pulled back from Damon, trading a panicked look with Alaric and then with Damon. Realization was dawning on his face, but Damon could tell Stefan hadn’t fully bought it yet. “I was what?”

Damon looked to Bonnie. He let go of Stefan and dropped to her side, while Alaric explained a few details. Damon only half-listened, feeling for a pulse and confirming that Bonnie was still breathing. He brushed the hair away from her face, and her lips were pale, colorless, and her nose had bled. So had her eyes and ears, and she looked a scary mess.

This was worse than he'd imagined. He realized she'd almost died, and at no point during their discussions had Bonnie mentioned that possibility. There was always the distinct reality of that happening, but Damon had assumed that a witch as powerful as her could have handled it.

Apparently, he'd assumed wrong. Bonnie, if she knew of it, hadn't bothered to correct his assumptions.

“We need to move her,” Damon declared. “Get her some place comfortable and safe.”

He scooped her up into his arms, the exhaustion from moments ago suddenly a secondary issue. They left the candles untouched, as well as the outline of the pentagram and the scorched mark where apparently lightning had struck the earth. Alaric had enough foresight to grab the Moonstone off the ground. Damon pulled Bonnie into his lap, settling into the cab of her truck. Alaric tossed Stefan her keys, and though Damon knew his brother had a thousand and one questions, Stefan kept them bound behind his teeth until they were on the road. Alaric followed in his own vehicle, and it was a few minutes of silence before Stefan started up with the questions.

“Give it to me straight,” Stefan breathed.

Damon told him everything.

Stefan drove quietly while Damon laid it all out: Bonnie’s mom, the Spell of Undoing, Damon's own humanity, Jeremy's predicament, and how Stefan had been dead for well over three days. Stefan kept tossing a look sideways at him. Damon didn’t realize he was cradling Bonnie until he figured out that Stefan was studying them but wasn’t commenting on it. Damon really didn’t care how it looked. In the aftermath of the reunion, the full gravity of what Bonnie had risked, what she was willing to do, settled in heavy. She had risked her life, and Damon owed her. It was so typical of Bonnie Bennett to put everything on the line for her friends.

It humbled Damon to realize she might've done all of this for _him_.

* * *

They arrived at Alaric’s place in less than an hour, having taken the highways at breakneck speeds. Damon made a brief call to Caroline instructing her to bring Elena to Alaric’s town, omitting any reference to Stefan or Bonnie. He didn’t want to return to Mystic Falls yet, at least until he was sure that whatever had been draining Bonnie’s powers within the town wouldn’t resume its course if she went back there. Caroline sounded confused but he knew she’d follow his instructions and be here in no time.

In the meanwhile, Damon got Bonnie settled in Alaric’s spare bedroom. She still hadn’t recovered, and what he’d assumed – _hoped_ – had been normal fatigue was now starting to present itself as something slightly more complicated. She didn’t respond to any of the attempts to wake her up.

Stefan stood in the doorway, watching them both. “You shouldn’t have let her do this,” he said. “It was too dangerous.”

Damon didn’t even bother looking back. “She knew what she was risking.” Bonnie’s face was still too pale, and he turned off the corner light and plunged them into darkness. He walked over to his brother and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “And you’re welcome, little brother.”

Stefan held his gaze. “Did you? Know what she was risking?”

Damon strode out into the hallway, avoiding the question. Alaric’s house was small, nothing more than a two bedroom, and Damon suddenly felt claustrophobic. The place was barely big enough to fit in the Salvatore mansion’s backyard. He took a detour to the kitchen, and found Alaric sitting at the breakfast nook.

“Any change?” Alaric asked.

Damon shook his head.

A feeling of nausea overtook him. It was something in the pit of his stomach, low and growing. Damon tried to ignore it. As much as he told the others that Bonnie knew what she was doing, convincing himself of that fact was becoming nearly impossible. Had she? Really, fully? Everything that had built up to her decision to try the spell had been overshadowed by a sense of grief, of Damon’s grief. Bonnie had said herself that it had been a desperate measure, but who’s desperation had it been? The lifebond could have been affecting Bonnie’s judgment, infecting her with Damon’s grief and making her act out rashly.

He opened the fridge and rummaged around for things to eat. He wasn’t hungry but he needed something to do, and as exhausted as he was, he knew he wouldn’t be getting sleep tonight. When he came out with some milk and grabbed a bowl for cereal, he turned to find Stefan watching him.

“What?” Damon asked, forcing boredom into his voice.

“Bonnie risked her life for this,” Stefan remarked, like he was lecturing him.

For a beat, Damon felt his annoyance flash. Of course, he fucking knew that. Of course, he was all too aware of the implications. He didn’t need Stefan spelling it out for him like he was still a soulless vampire. Damon dropped the bowl on the counter and poured the cereal, offering a biting smile to his audience.

“And?” he prodded to Stefan.

Stefan’s good ol’ righteous indignation began swelling. “And you shouldn’t have forced her to do that.”

“Have you met Bonnie? No one forces her to do _anything_.”

“I know that she’ll do anything to save her friends, and she’ll do it no matter her own personal cost. You took advantage of that, Damon.”

“I saved your life, Stefan,” Damon threw back, agitation spiking. “What do you want me to say? Sorry?”

Stefan gestured wide. “You can act it a little, maybe. You know, try feeling some of that—”

Damon snapped, reacting so fast he hadn’t even realized he’d made the conscious decision to move across the kitchen. He pinned Stefan against the wall. Stefan was stronger and faster, still a vampire – but the maneuver had caught him off guard.

“Don’t tell me how to fucking feel about this, Stefan,” Damon warned darkly. His hands were fisted around Stefan’s shirt-collar. “I know exactly what’s at stake, and what my part in it was. You weren’t there, because – oh, yeah, you were conveniently _dead._ Don’t talk about things you don’t understand.”

“Everybody,” Alaric spoke up, “Just relax and take it easy.”

Damon forced himself to let go, and Stefan was staring at him with surprise. Damon left the kitchen, and it was insane how much he loved his brother, had gone through hell to get him back, and how less than two hours later Damon could still get annoyed as fuck at Stefan’s holier-than-thou attitude. _Brothers_. Jesus.

He found himself back in Bonnie’s bedroom without even realizing it. He slammed the door shut and dragged a chair to her bedside. A tense exhale escaped his lips, and he settled heavily on the uncomfortable chair and cradled his head in both hands, sliding fingers down until they intertwined at the base of his neck.

Guilt choked at him. Damon didn’t want to acknowledge it, but it was there, building and spiking and adding a whole new level of self-depreciation to his arsenal. He’d done this. Say whatever he did to Stefan and the others, but Damon knew the truth and couldn’t deny it to himself. He was afraid that Bonnie had taken on a spell too powerful for even her to handle, and it had been _his_ doing. His prompting.

 _“Yes,”_ she’d told him, earnestly, in those woods. _“Yes, he is. Okay, Damon, I promise. You hear me? I’ll bring Stefan back. I promise.”_

And what the fuck else was she supposed to say in the face of his meltdown? Bonnie had the biggest savior complex he’d ever seen, and he’d used that. He’d taken advantage of it. And now here she was, lying in what probably amounted to a psychic coma because of it. He wouldn’t forgive himself for this, if she didn’t wake up.

The novelty of his feelings for her only compounded the issues, and he didn't even know how to address those yet. He didn't know what it meant.

Alaric walked into the room two hours later, to find Damon had barely moved an inch. There was a brief pause, and then Alaric ventured inside, but just barely, like he felt an intruder in his own home.

“You should get some rest,” Alaric told him.

Damon barely heard him. The weight of this crushing emotion proved toxic, in the very air he breathed, and Damon didn’t know how to deal with it.

“What is this?” he breathed to Alaric in confusion, unsure of what he was even asking. His voice was hushed, slightly choked. “I don’t… I don’t get what this is.”

Alaric treaded forward a few steps, but Damon didn’t turn around. His eyes couldn’t pull away from Bonnie.

“This is the human condition,” Alaric said. “It’s been over a century since you’ve felt this, but what you’re feeling right now? Good old fashion human emotion. I know you felt something like it when you were a vampire, but this is different.”

“How do I get rid of it?” he tried, jokingly, but it came out too desperate.

“You don’t,” Alaric informed him, “You can’t switch this off, and you can’t drink it away or whore it away. It’s just there. Welcome back to humanity, Damon.”

* * *

An hour later, Damon heard Caroline’s car pull up to the driveway. The sound of the girls whispering to each other as they approached the front door carried through his window. Damon leaned back in his chair, looking through the open bedroom door where the hallway stretched out in darkness. The doorbell rang, and a moment later Damon watched as Alaric answered the front door.

“Ric,” Elena greeted in surprise. It was past four in the morning, and the girls had been driving for some time, and she looked tired and worn-out, like she’d been up for days. Even still, Elena conjured up enough energy to put some enthusiasm into the hug she gave Alaric. “What’s going on?”

“Uh,” Alaric began, unsure of where to begin. He glanced down the hallway to the room where Damon sat, looking desperate for help.

Damon rose to his feet, coming to stand in the doorway to Bonnie’s room. “There’s been some developments.”

Elena’s face closed off, unwrapping a scarf around her neck. “God, now what?”

“Uh, Alaric?” Caroline stood at the threshold, waiting. “You mind inviting me in?”

“Oh, yeah.” Alaric flashed a sheepish look. “C’mon on in, Caroline. Sorry, forgot about that.”

“Oh, no problem,” Caroline replied brightly, stepping in. “Everybody forgets that one with me. I don’t know if that’s a compliment or—”

“What’s going on with Bonnie?” Elena exclaimed in horror, having made her way down the hall. She brushed past Damon and flew to her bedside. “What’s wrong with her?”

“We don’t know,” Damon answered, coming around Elena. He perched against the wall near the headboard, and regarded Elena with a tired look. “It’s a side-effect to the spell she performed.”

Caroline was standing frozen in the hallway. For a second, Damon thought it was in reaction to the news of Bonnie, but then Damon saw Stefan’s shadow from the kitchen and then realized the other vampire had caught the scent.

“What…” Caroline began, faintly, confused.

“Side-effect to what spell?” Elena asked, throwing Damon a look. “Why didn’t you mention this over the phone?”

“I didn’t want to explain.”

Elena released a heavy sigh. “Well, explain now, Damon. Why is Bonnie sick? What’s going on?”

Stefan stepped out of the kitchen, and Caroline squeaked out a small noise, half-shocked, half-stupefied. Damon could only make out the rough outline of Stefan in the hallway, and he nodded once briefly to Caroline and started walking towards Elena, who’s back was still to him.

Elena’s focus was entirely on Bonnie, crouched at her bedside, oblivious to anything else. For a moment, Stefan stood in the doorway, unwilling to make his presence known. But something must have alerted Elena. Some noise or scent or some weird sixth sense, because Elena suddenly tensed and lifted her head slowly. She connected her gaze with Damon, hiding a question in her eyes, and Damon could only offer a small nod towards the figure that stood behind her. With widening eyes, Elena slowly turned around.

Elena stared at Stefan in shock for a full two seconds, before Damon broke the hush with an explanation. “Bonnie brought him back to life.”

Another beat passed, and then Elena broke her paralysis with a sob. “Stefan?” she breathed, faintly.

Stefan looked as much of an emotional wreck as her. He nodded, apparently unable to trust his voice, and then Elena was crying and rushing across the room towards him. She threw her arms around him, letting out a string of rushed words that barely made any sense. Stefan held her trembling body, soothing her with some mindless words of comfort, but Elena was crying too hard to hear any of it. She pulled back and kissed him, long and hard. They seemed oblivious to the entire audience around them.

Damon stood leaning against the wall, realizing he could finally see her with Stefan, and the pain didn't sear him anymore. There was no silent sting, no aching void where he craved the same attention from Elena. Not anymore.

“How?” Elena asked desperately, when she pulled back.

“The Spell of Undoing,” Damon informed, wryly. “It’s everything as advertised.”

With one exception.

Everybody looked to Bonnie’s unconscious form, the girl who had orchestrated this reunion more than anybody, and the only one that wasn’t around to witness the fruits of her labor.

* * *

 _Bonnie was lost, but she didn’t know it._

 _She was entertaining herself by drawing swirls and curlicues in the chocolate sludge at the bottom of her cup. She listened to the clink of Elena’s spoon against her mug. She’d run through a minimum of fifty different ways to start a conversation, but she had yet to say a word. Elena didn’t appear to be bothered by this. She just sat at the opposite end of her couch, stirring her cocoa and occasionally taking a sip._

 _It was peaceful, silent. Bonnie liked it._

 _“It isn’t always going to be like this, you know,” Elena told her._

 _“What do you mean?”_

 _“Just you and me, quiet nights where we whisper and gossip. It isn’t supposed to be like this, even now.”_

 _Bonnie shook her head. “No, Elena,” she promised. “It’s always going to be like this, just you and me and we’ll take this town by storm. Just you wait.”_

 _Elena gave her a sad smile. “You’re my best friend, Bonnie – but you’re blind to what’s right in front of you.”_

 _Bonnie wasn’t hearing it. “What are you talking about? C’mon, Elena. You know me. I’d do anything for you, and I’m telling you, nothing is going to pull us apart.”_

 _“You left.”_

 _Bonnie felt the air leave her lungs._

 _“You left,” Elena accused, and her soft voice had gone hard, unforgiving as steel. “You left me. You left Jeremy. You left Caroline and everyone you ever cared about. You say you’d do anything for us, but the truth is you’re a coward—”_

 _“Elena—”_

 _“You’re a coward and a liar,” Elena said, and then smiled with a bite, a look that would have seemed more at home on Katherine. “You’re going to die all alone.”_

 _“Why are you saying this?” Bonnie choked out._

 _“You left, but silly Bonnie,” Elena mused cruelly, “The worst thing you ever did was return.”_

 _The dream changed, then, jumping scenery to another where Bonnie was only seven years old. She was at her old house, and her mother and father were fighting in the living room. Little Bonnie was upstairs, playing quietly with dolls and some crayons._

 _“This isn’t right,” Daddy was saying. “You can’t just leave. What about Bonnie—”_

 _“I am doing this for Bonnie!” her mother yelled, and Bonnie winced, lips trembling. She hated it when her mother yelled. “If I don’t leave now, the visions will come true and our little girl will die. I have to find a way! Otherwise our little girl will become a monster, James.”_

 _“You don’t know that!”_

 _“I do! My visions are never wrong and—”_

 _Bonnie cupped her ears and blocked out the yelling, and a moment later, the dream changed again. She was at Fell’s Church, 1864. The fire burned with a vengeful red, and in the distance there were men distributing muskets out to new owners._

 _“Make sure none escape!” one shouted. “We cannot let their kind free!”_

 _Damon emerged from the shadows to stand beside her, face upturned towards the fire, eyes wide and disbelieving. There was a look of horror and innocence on his face that made him look ten years younger. He was dressed in an old-fashioned suit, black jacket tailored over a white shirt, and it should have been pristine and presentable except for the blood on his hands._

 _“This is where it all began,” Damon breathed out, sickly, and then turned to her. “But it will end with you.”_

 _Men grabbed Bonnie’s arms, and suddenly she was being pulled. Bonnie was defenseless, weak – unable to protect herself. They hauled her across the ground, and Damon stood, just watching, as they dragged her to the burning church._

 _“Damon, help! No, help! Someone, please!”_

 _The men won. The men pushed her in and closed the door, and then she was trapped, burning in a church for a sin she never committed, burned alive for a thing she never was. This didn’t make sense, but she burned. She fought and lost, and the licks branded her skin with each single flame until they grew in fervor, grew in numbers._

 _Bonnie screamed for help that never came._

* * *

The next day, when Bonnie stubbornly remained in the coma, Damon realized they needed to start formulating a new game plan.

Nothing was working out. They contacted the coven again to see if there was anything they could do, but Matte informed him that they’d already lent Bonnie their powers. None of the witches or warlocks had enough magic in them to help. Elena found Lucy Bennett’s number in Bonnie’s cell phone and had left an update in Lucy’s voicemail, but the woman had yet to respond. They’d thought about hospitals, but what Bonnie was suffering was magical in nature, not medical.

Finally, Damon wracked his brain for options and settled on two possible courses of actions. Neither were pleasant. Both were, in fact, downright reckless. He decided to try the lesser of the two evils first, but because he knew it would make everybody uneasy, he waited until Elena and Stefan were preoccupied with getting their reunion on elsewhere in private. He cornered Caroline and Alaric into a war counsel; they’d be easier to convince.

But Caroline wasn’t as receptive to his idea as he’d been hoping. “Seriously?” she responded, incredulous. “Vampire blood? The last time we tried to pull someone out of a coma using vampire blood, it was _me_. And I turned into a vampire!”

They had few other options left, and the longer that Bonnie stayed comatose, the more anxious Damon got.

“You got a better idea, blondie?” Damon tossed back. “Look, we can’t stay away from Mystic Falls forever. Who the hell knows what Mommy Bennett is up to and your hubby can’t babysit Jeremy by himself forever. We have to get back there, and I’d really rather have a Bennett witch of my own when we do.”

“Really?” Alaric asked wryly. “That the only reason you want Bonnie back so badly?”

Caroline looked to Alaric in confusion, and Damon quickly changed the topic. “Ideas? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller? Didn’t think so.” He nodded his head at Caroline. “You wanna do the honors, or should I get Stefan? ‘Cause that’ll be a painful conversation for everyone involved.”

Caroline glared, but reluctantly came to an agreement with him. She brought her wrist to her mouth, took a small bite, and then walked over to Bonnie with her bleeding wrist. “Just for the record, I still think this is a bad idea,” she said, the last famous words before she fed Bonnie her blood.

Now they just had to wait and see.

* * *

 _Bonnie looked to Caroline and fell back a few steps. They were in a Hall of Mirrors, like those that they used to visit when the fair came into town. Everywhere Bonnie looked, there was a reflective surface that showed Bonnie and Caroline facing off, and inch-by-inch, Bonnie was losing ground._

 _“This is all your fault,” Caroline told her. “You couldn’t just leave well enough alone, could you? You had to come back.”_

 _“I came back to help,” Bonnie pleaded, weakly. Everyone was against her; she didn’t know why. “I came back to—”_

 _“Bonnie, Bonnie,” Caroline taunted, vamping out. “Don’t you know? Now that you’re back, Mystic Falls is going to burn and it’ll be all your fault.”_

 _“No,” Bonnie said, shaking her head. “No!”_

 _But when she looked again, the reflections in the mirrors had changed: Bonnie’s face paled, red angry lines expanding around her eyes, her teeth sharpening into fangs. Bonnie watched horrified, staring at the face of a monster – her own face._

 _Caroline circled around her. “You’ll be the worst vampire of them all.”_

* * *

 


	8. Chapter 8

Several hours later, Caroline declared, “We need to think of a new plan.”

Damon scrubbed a hand through his hair in frustration, unwilling to acknowledge the words at first. He didn’t need Caroline telling him what he already knew; he was two steps ahead of her. He had a new strategy already figured out. Damon hesitated, though. It was an insanely risky idea, if he did say so himself. But Bonnie’s life was at stake, and that… that had become far more unacceptable than it had been just a few days back.

He rose off the corner of the bed. It was time to implement Plan B: Operation Clusterfuck. “We need to bring Bonnie to her mother,” he told the others. “Pack up. We’re leaving.”

Caroline and Alaric just stared at him like he’d lost his mind, which given the circumstances, wasn’t an entirely unreasonable reaction. “Come again?” Caroline demanded, voice high-pitched. “No hablo estupido, because I just think you suggested we find Bonnie’s pycho-mother.”

Damon grabbed his leather jacket off the corner bedpost and shrugged it on. “She’ll know how to pull Bonnie out of the coma.”

“What makes you think she’ll help?” Alaric asked.

“Bonnie’s her kid,” Damon threw back. “I’m hoping that’ll be incentive enough.”

“For sane people, yes,” Caroline argued. “For people that kidnap and torture and have master evil plans to take over the world, not so much.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “You got a better idea?” He turned to Alaric. “Or you? Because if you’ve got one, I’m all ears. Bonnie isn’t gonna wake up by herself—”

“How do you know—”

“Because she isn’t,” Damon snapped, waving a hand. “Look at her. I mean, Jesus, she’s fucking comatose, Caroline. Open your eyes.”

"Hey!" she exclaimed with a flash of her eyes. "Don't yell at me about this! I care about Bonnie a helleva lot more than you!"

“Everybody relax,” Alaric commanded, managing to keep a cooler head. “We all care about Bonnie, and the fact is we don’t know if this is something she can handle on her own.”

Damon couldn’t take that chance. It was  _shocking_  how much he just couldn’t take that chance.

“I’m not waiting around,” Damon argued. “Patience never was one of my virtues.”

He turned around, only to discover Stefan and Elena had finally come up for air and had managed to rejoin civilization again.  _Fantastic_. They blocked the doorway, wearing identical looks of alarm, and Damon drew out a sigh. He didn't have the energy to alleviate their concerns. They didn't have the _time_.

“Are you serious about going to Bonnie’s mother for help?” Elena asked, in the same tone she would use if Damon had suggested they start killing puppies for a living. “Damon, that’s a bad idea.”

The scene was going to play out exactly like he feared. Damon made a move past them, but Stefan caught him by the arm with a vice-like grip – and oh, yes, Damon was keenly reminded that one of the brothers remained a vampire while the other had not. Damon yanked his arm free and pivoted to face off against his brother’s disapproving scowl. It figured that getting laid all afternoon long wouldn’t improve Stefan’s mood any. 

“Anybody here know how to pull a witch from a psychic coma?” Damon asked Stefan and Elena. He waited a beat, letting the silence sting. “Yeah, didn’t think so.”

“Wait,” Stefan crowded around Damon, and when he opened his mouth, Damon braced himself for an onslaught of opposition and protests. “I’ll be the one to take Bonnie to her mother,” Stefan declared instead. “It should be me.”

“What?” Elena exclaimed in shock, whirling on him. 

“I’ll do it,” Stefan said sedately. “Bonnie’s in a coma because of me. It’s only fair—”

Exhaling on a groan, Damon regarded his brother with a look that he hoped spoke volumes. “Look, Stefan,  _no._  I appreciate that you’ve got the corner on being the noble brother, but are you shitting me? We just went through seven levels of very unfun hell trying to bring you back to life, and I am not going to watch you become a plaything for Bethany Bennett again. I’m going. I’m human. She can’t fuck with me magically anymore.”

“Yes, she can,” Elena complained, scrunching her face up in disapproval, “and she can still kill you.”

A biting smile played on Damon’s lips. “I’m human now. A mosquito bite can kill me.” Elena opened her mouth to further protest, and Damon forestalled it by cutting in, “Ah! Just… Elena, think about it for a second. This is Bonnie’s mother. I’m not a threat to her. She gets her kicks with magic, not with… unnecessarily screwing with people.”

It sounded unconvincing even to his own ears.

“You weren’t there,” Caroline breathed at his back, paling. “Elena and I spent a full day in her company. She’s not a reasonable person.”

Rather than worrying about the inevitable collision with the elder Bennett witch, Damon used the effort to search for a friendly face. Damon did a quick spin to find Alaric, figuring if any of them would show Damon solidarity, the odds were in the favor of the former vampire-hunter. There was a stark pause. Alaric studied the group at large, and finally settled his gaze on Bonnie. He must have come to some sort of reluctant decision. He shifted on the balls of his feet, left foot to right, and eventually nodded to Damon. 

“It might be the only way to save Bonnie’s life,” Alaric said in his best reasonable voice.  _Atta boy._  “It’s not the best idea, but it’s the only one that’s on the table. Damon knows what he's doing.”

When no one offered any immediate objections, Damon didn't miss a beat. He bid a quick retreat, storming off for the hallway where he grabbed the keys for Bonnie’s truck off the hook. He went back to retrieve her body, and the others cleared the way when he scooped her up into his arms. Their whispers of concern trailed after him, but Stefan was the only one that followed him fully out into the front yard.

“Why are you doing this?” Stefan asked.

Depositing Bonnie’s prone body into the passenger seat, Damon closed the door and turned back. “It’s that pesky newfound humanity. It’s dropped my IQ, apparently.”

Stefan stopped him from rounding the truck and speeding away from this conversation. “Seriously, Damon, why are you doing this?”

Damon didn’t have an answer for him. “Stop worrying, Stefan. I’ll be fine.”

Stefan wasn’t buying it, though he let go of Damon’s arm after they both noticed that the girls and Alaric had joined them out on the front lawn. Damon regained a little of his momentum as he swung around the truck and slid into the driver’s seat. In some universe, Stefan might’ve had a good poker face but not in this one, not to Damon. Confusion marred his features. A wealth of things were left unsaid between the brothers, but Damon preferred it that way for now. 

He revved the engine before he started pulling the vehicle into reverse. He slammed the brakes on the truck when he found someone standing in the middle of the driveway. He couldn’t make out the features with the sun creating a blinding halo behind his head, but Damon squinted the figure into view. 

Lucy Bennett raised an eyebrow, dropping a dusty shoulder bag onto the pavement. “So,” she mused, wryly. “Someone left a message on my cell phone. Something about Bonnie and a coma. Which one of you two fine gentlemen will tell me what the hell is going on?”

* * *

 _“You hurt?”_

 _Bonnie glanced up, but there was no one there. The voice came from someplace she couldn’t see, and the owner – it sounded so familiar, a woman’s voice, but Bonnie couldn’t recognize it. She took a second to recover from her shock before she managed a nod. Her body felt bruised, and there was blood all over her – she didn’t realize whose._

 _Bonnie felt very confused, and very, very scared._

 _“You shouldn’t fight back,” came the voice again, so familiar, but not. “It just hurts more when you fight back.”_

 _“Who are you?” Bonnie asked. “Show yourself. Step forward.”_

 _There was the steady tap of high heels against a polished floorboard. It echoed around the empty room until Bonnie honed in on its owner, but when it did, Bonnie could only stare in shock. Dressed in black boots, curve-hugging jeans and a tight tee that showed off a hefty amount of cleavage, Bonnie found herself staring at… _herself._  Except it wasn’t her; this other Bonnie was different. She had on flawless make-up, but there was a thick line of eyeliner and too much mascara, making it seem heavy and extreme. The clothes were fashionable, but a bit too form-fitting for Bonnie’s normal tastes unless she was going clubbing. _

“Who are you?” 

The other-her smirked, amused like she was privy to some joke. “God, Bonnie, still don’t get it, do you? I’m what you’re going to become. I’m what you’ve always been destined to become.”

She studied her doppleganger in growing confusion, and then it registered like a finger-snap. The difference between them was the same difference between Katherine and Elena. It was in the way they stood – predator and prey, evil and innocence, a woman of ageless beauty and the girl she had once been.

This was Bonnie as a vampire.

Bonnie took a step back, suddenly sick and scared, and it didn’t make sense. She couldn’t accept this. Her emotional range was muted, and only extreme ends of the spectrum managed to register. Rage, fear, the very edges of confusion. This place – whatever it was – it was like a cage and Bonnie knew she was trapped; she needed to break free. 

“You’ll get out,” the other-her assured Bonnie, as if reading her mind, “but a word of advice? Don’t fight what’s coming. Fighting it will just make it all the more painful.”

“I’m not going to become you.”

Her doppleganger regarded Bonnie with a contemptuous look. “God, seriously, how was I ever as naïve as you? Look, I’m not as bad as everybody makes me out to be. I have my reasons for doing what I do. You’ll see. You’ll figure it out.”

“Did you kill them?” Bonnie demanded, gaining strength in her voice. Elena, Stefan, Caroline, Tyler – they were all dead somewhere. “They’re all dead, aren’t they? Did you kill them?” 

Her doppleganger paused, and then said, “Not yet.”

* * *

Lucy jerked her hand back like she’d been burned. Damon watched as the elder Bennett witch paused briefly, then took a bracing breath and tried again. She cautiously placed her hand back over Bonnie’s forehead and closed her eyes. A wave of concern and horror flittered across Lucy’s features, even with her eyes closed firmly in concentration. Whatever she was seeing inside Bonnie’s mind, Damon knew it wasn’t a pleasant thing. 

He tried to keep the concern off his face. Alaric was already a little too privy for Damon’s comfort, and the others wouldn’t understand. Damon barely understood it himself. But what was that saying?  _The writing was on the wall._  The more he mulled over everything, the more he came to the realization that the developing situation with Bonnie wasn’t that unpredictable. 

There was a familiar pattern to all this.

It had been like this with Elena. Mere nanoseconds after his 150-year infatuation with Katherine had ended, he’d jumped obsessions onto a new girl. Damon wondered if he was doing the same thing again right now. He wondered if in the wake of gaining closure with Elena, he hadn’t imprinted onto Bonnie like some newborn duck. It would just be so typical. 

Damon’s musings shattered when Lucy suddenly came to, drawing in an audible gasp. “Jesus,” she swore, paling, yanking back her hand. “It’s trying to drive her insane.”

Everybody stared for a beat, and Damon broke the hush. “What is?”

Lucy released a harsh exhale, and then retrieved her bag from the side. Damon thought she was going for something magical, something useful – but a second later she pulled out nothing more than a small pack of Marlboros and some matches. He watched, first with impatience and annoyance, as she shook loose a single cancer-stick from the carton. Then he noticed that her hands were trembling when she tried to strike the match.

Damon took pity on her. He took the booklet from her hands and lit a match, holding the flame to her cigarette. 

“Well,” Caroline said, anxiety lifting the pitch of her voice. “What’s going on?”

Lucy exhaled a bale of smoke. “You’ve been messing with magic far above your heads. Far above  _anyone’s_  head. You think there wasn’t going to be consequences?”

It took a beat for anybody to respond. “The Spell of Undoing,” Stefan breathed in a soft knowing voice. “The price for bringing me back to life is Bonnie’s sanity.”

Lucy dragged a rough hand through her hair, puffing out a breath of smoke in frustration. “It seems so. I don’t know if anything can pull her out.”

Desperation crept into Elena’s voice, “There has to be a way. Something we can—”

“Damn vampires,” Lucy stuttered out. “Why do we always get tangled up in their bullshit?” 

“Consider it a Bennett Curse,” Damon snapped. “How can we help?”

“I’ll help when there’s a way,” Lucy returned, and there was a wealth of foreboding in that statement. 

“Well,” Damon offered, impatiently. “Find one.”

She rose up in a fit of righteous indignation and Damon had the good sense to back off slightly. Making witches angry never really went well for anyone, and Lucy looked like a volatile mix of pissed-off and scared-shitless. Whatever she’d seen in Bonnie’s mind had rattled her to the core. He had the feeling that not a lot would rattle a witch like Lucy.

There was a brief pause while Lucy took another drag, trying to calm herself. “I’m telling you, there’s no helping her now. This is old magic. Deep magic. You don’t do that spell without expecting backlash. You should have had certain precautionary measures in place. Bonnie should have known this wasn’t going to end well for her.”

“What precautionary measures?” Alaric spoke up.

Lucy took off for the hallway, apparently finding the small bedroom claustrophobic. Everybody filed out after her to Alaric’s living room, and it was barely bigger than a shoebox, but Lucy let out a deep sigh like she could breathe again.

“What precautionary measures?” Damon repeated. 

Lucy shook her head like it didn’t matter. “You put up a protective spell that prevents the old magic from bounding back on you. You sacrifice an animal…” she took a breath, realization dawning on her, “but I suppose this spell was so hardcore that only a human sacrifice would do. Something to use as a vessel to draw in the unintended magic.”

“Jeremy,” Elena breathed out in sickly realization. “It wasn’t an accident. Bonnie’s mother was using him as a vessel.”

Bonnie had insisted on doing the spell alone for that very reason. She hadn’t wanted anyone else to get swept up in the spell’s backlash, and had then suffered as the only victim when there was no one else left. Damon felt cold fury mingle with his guilt; Bonnie should have told him. If she hadn’t been so goddamn self-sacrificing and noble to a  _stupid_  degree, he might’ve managed to make other arrangements. 

“Look,” Lucy choked out, taking another unsteady drag from her cigarette. “You don’t mess with this type of magic. You just don’t. There are always consequences.”

* * *

Three hours later, Damon wasn’t any closer to figuring a way out of this. Lucy’s foreboding assessment had made going to Bonnie’s mother for help seem like a futile choice, and Damon didn’t want to tango with Bethany unless he had to – but their other options were running short. Did they even _have_  any other options?

Caroline walked into the room, snapping closed her cell phone. “We need to head back to Mystic Falls. Tyler can’t babysit Jeremy by himself any longer. My mom needs him back on duty, and besides, we’re two nights away from a full moon.”

Stefan had his arms crossed over his chest, looking lost in some thought before he decided, “All right. We’ll head back.”

Damon glared up at him. “And do what? Stick our thumb up our asses and wait for Mommy Bennett to flame-broil us alive?”

“No,” Stefan returned steadily. “We go and see if we can declare a truce with her. We bring Bonnie to her, and hope she has some sort of spell that can help.”

Lucy – who was on her third cigarette in as many hours – snorted her disdain but otherwise didn’t offer her opinion. Damon had the feeling that if liquor had been nearby, Lucy would have already been three sheets to the wind.

It seemed Elena shared the other woman’s reservations. “We can’t trust Bethany,” she argued. “She used Jeremy like he was nothing more than a sacrifice. I was probably next. You can’t trust a person like that.”

Stefan gave Elena a sharp look, fully of sympathy and concern, but his voice held steady, “We’ve worked with people we didn’t trust before. Not every time…”

A thought suddenly occurred to Damon. 

He only half-listened as the others traded arguments back and forth, and Stefan seemed particularly adamant on carrying forward with the plan of going to Bonnie’s mother. Damon knew it had been his own idea in the first place, and that Stefan was only picking up the ball because of an avalanche of guilt and responsibility. But the merits of that plan seemed screwy to Damon in the wake of everything Lucy had told them. 

Besides, Damon was suddenly preoccupied with another idea. 

 _The lifebond._  

The newness of his humanity and the lifebond – two things that were complications enough in their own right – only served to highlight the confusion warring in his mind, but for the first time, Damon looked beyond the complications and saw the potential. It had been severed, but maybe the lingering residue would somehow work as a loophole in helping Bonnie? If Damon could reestablish the connection, maybe he could pull Bonnie out of the coma?

It was a thought, a possibility, but he didn’t test the theory in front of the others. He waited until everybody dispersed, then followed Lucy to the front yard where she leaned against the banister of Alaric’s porch. The sun was setting just beyond the horizon.

“What do you want?” she asked him, warily.

Damon raised his hands in mock-surrender. “Just want to chat.”

“Bullshit. Vampires always want something more. It’s one of the constants in the universe.”

Were all Bennett witches immune to his charms? Bonnie, Emily, Bethany, Sheila and now Lucy. Five witches in four generations; that had to be some sort of record. 

“I’m not a vampire anymore,” Damon offered, in what he thought was a reasonable argument.

Lucy wasn’t having it. “Once you’re a vampire, you always  _think_  like a vampire.”

Damon couldn’t argue with that, much. Still, he leaned back against the railings, regarding the witch with a look that bordered on flirtation. “Oh, c’mon, we’re not  _that_  bad, are we?”

Lucy laughed a little, but it was more  _at_  him than with. “You’re cute, Damon, but drop the act. You won’t be able to sucker me with your smile, if that’s your intention. I knew Katherine, remember? I know what your kind is capable of, and no amount of sexy posturing will ever change that.”

Damon had the good sense to offer a sheepish shrug.  _Oh, yes, Katherine_. He had no doubt that somewhere out there, his little-former-flame was continuing on and shaming the good name of vampires everywhere. 

“Yeah, well,” Damon said, a little more seriously. “That bitch survived nearly seven-hundred years doing what she did best: self-preservation. I, on the other hand, am looking to help out your little cuz.”

“Yeah, and why’s that?” 

That was the question of the hour, wasn’t it?

“Because I owe her one,” Damon declared – and it was close enough to the truth, he figured. “And I hate having debts.”

Lucy studied him with a half-turned face, and it looked like she didn’t know how to handle him yet, though suspicion seemed to be winning out. “How are you going to help?”

“Two days ago, Bonnie and I lifebonded together.”

Lucy stared for a beat. “Bullshit.”

“What can I say? Our love was pure and it couldn’t be denied anymore.”

Lucy rolled her eyes and began walking away, and Damon caught her by the arm. “Okay,” he said, in a wry voice, like he was mocking her for her seriousness, “so she did it to save my life. Same difference.”

“To save your life?” Lucy tossed back, still incredulous, though at least she was listening this time. “Why would she care about you that much?”

“You’ll have to ask her that. Look, the point is, it was there. We broke it off yesterday when it became…” he struggled for a word, and settled on one, with an exaggerated eye-roll, “ _inconvenient_. Is there any way that could help with Sleeping Beauty in there?” 

“You really lifebonded with her? Like, all the way?”

“What? Are you asking if we did the horizontal cha-cha? Jeeze. You have a gutter mind. If it helps you any: no, we didn’t do the nasty,” Damon offered her, expression bored. “She did it to save my life. It was like a business arrangement.”

Except for that kiss, of course.

Lucy was staring at him like she still didn’t know what to make of him, but after a beat her shoulders slumped and she looked like she was actually considering his information instead of just dismissing it. 

“Huh,” she said eventually.

Damon studied her, trying to make out which way the wheels were turning in her head. “ _Huh,_  as in that’s gross and I judge you two so badly, as my bloodline is want to do. Or  _huh_ , as in that’s interesting and is actually relevant to Damon’s interests.”

“And I can see why she broke off the lifebond so quickly,” Lucy threw back, tartly, but she was a little more amused with his antics than before. “Shut up and let me think for a bit.”

He watched as she reached for her shoulder bag again, and for a beat when he thought she was going to light up another smoke, he opened his mouth to lob an easy insult at her unhelpful distractions – but then she emerged with a small spell book. It was half the size of Bonnie’s grimoire, or even the one that Bethany had abandoned. 

Lucy quickly flipped through the pages and took a few lengthy minutes reading over something. “There might be a way,” she said at length, eventually pulling back. Her expression was less than pleased; she looked… resigned, and maybe a little queasy. “It’s risky and—”

“There will be consequences,” Damon cut in, flippantly. “Yadda, yadda, yawn. You witches really need new material.”

“And you should learn from your mistakes,” Lucy warned.

Damon couldn’t argue with that. “What are the drawbacks?”

“You’re talking about mixing old magic with another old magic. It’s going to be unpredictable. But one thing I know for sure, it’ll be permanent. Your connection, I mean.”

Damon worked his throat for a moment. “We’d be lifebonded together forever?”

Lucy flinched, looking away. “Well, I might be able to lessen the… look, it comes down to this. If we use your lifebond to reestablish a connection, we need enough of it so that you can go inside her nightmares and pull her out. That’s how it would work. I could maybe minimize the effects of the bond. Cut out the physical links, and maybe shield Bonnie from any effects?”

Damon had trouble following the ramblings. “Meaning what?”

“Meaning,” she offered, a little helplessly. “You wouldn’t be physically tied to her. If she died, you wouldn’t. If you died, she wouldn’t. And Bonnie wouldn’t… she wouldn’t feel the bond.”

Lucy was beating around an ugly truth. 

“But I would,” he stuttered out, dizzy with realization.

She nodded. “You’d feel the lifebond for the rest of your life.”

The declaration left Damon reeling back.

If it had been just about attraction, Damon wouldn’t have felt a fraction as winded by that statement as he ultimately felt. Bonnie exhibited many of the same qualities that had drawn him to Katherine and Elena; she was intelligent, sexy and strong. He’d always seen it, but at some point during the last few days, a switch had been flipped.

This… this wasn’t just attraction. Damon knew the difference. 

“Think about it,” Lucy advised him, looking like she pitied him the choice. “I know you’re not a vampire anymore, but forever for a human is a still a long damn time. Know what you’re getting into. Feeling something for a person who would never feel the same way back – it’s a nightmare. I wouldn’t wish that on anybody.”

The problem was, he knew this nightmare all too well.

It was the story of his life. 

* * *

Elena never understood it, just like Katherine never really did. He never  _wanted_  to love either of them. It was painful and degrading, having to suffer all those years in some twisted infatuation, blindly loyal to women who had always preferred his younger brother. Damon had been intensely aware of his shortcomings the entire time, all one hundred and sixty years of it – and the entire time he’d been a slave to his feelings anyway. Damon had no intention of suffering that humiliation all over again.

He still didn’t know what he felt for Bonnie, but if he did this, this lifebond, he knew exactly where it would lead. They’d been tethered together in that lifebond for less than a day and it had already culminated in a kiss. Damon had been a little ambivalent over whether that had been the  _only_  thing that had precipitated the kiss, but there was a difference between confusion over one’s feelings and jumping headfirst into a lifelong commitment.

It couldn’t be his curse in life to suffer in unrequited love forever. It just  _couldn’t._  Damon knew himself far too well. He didn’t do things half-assed where love was concerned and there would be no turning back from a lifebond. It would rule and destroy him, and he’d spent his entire life in ruins already. Damon had just gotten over Elena; had just put to that demon to rest. He wasn’t a glutton for further punishment.

He owed Bonnie a lot, but there were limits. 

“All right,” Stefan declared to the group. “Unless anyone has any better ideas, we head back to Mystic Falls and try to make a deal with Bethany.”

Lucy led her eyes drift to Damon in a silent question, and Damon’s gaze darted away. He couldn’t get his head on straight. His relationship with Bonnie had evolved from enemies to allies to friends – and now  _this._  He couldn’t wrap his head around that as easily as he had the other transitions in their dynamic. 

Apparently, Lucy took his silence as a final answer. She lifted off her feet and went towards the back to help move Bonnie into the truck. Damon didn’t move. He felt paralyzed, and screw this new humanity bullshit, because the guilt from before had intensified until it felt like he had a bleeding ulcer in his gut. 

Stefan settled beside him. “What’s going on with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been silent and broody—”

“Afraid your territory is being encroached?” Damon asked in a wry tone. “Don’t worry, Stefan. You’re still going to win this year’s award—”

“Damon,” Stefan stopped him, cold.

He traded a look with his brother that cut through all the bullshit. Apparently Stefan wasn’t the only one in this relationship with a shitty poker face. They hadn’t always had the closest relationship, but thick or thin, Stefan had always read him like an open book. It was annoying on any given day, but today, especially, Damon was lost on its virtues.

A second later, Lucy led the group out of Alaric’s house. She spelled Bonnie’s body to float a few feet above the ground, and Damon’s eyes were glued to the form until it drifted out the front door.  _Second verse, same as the first._  Or should he say third? He’d always felt more for the women in his life than they’d ever felt for him. First, Katherine. Then, Elena. He couldn’t sign himself up for a third act to follow. God, fuck, he just couldn’t. 

Apparently his face gave away too many of his conflicting emotions, because when Damon turned back to his brother, Stefan looked like a realization was dawning on him. “Is this…” Stefan paused, briefly, and started again. “What happened between you and Bonnie the last few days?”

Damon tried to play it off casual. “You mean besides the wacky supernatural hijinks?”

Stefan wasn’t buying it. “Yes, besides that. You’ve been different lately. Elena mentioned something about a lifebond, and how you—”

“It’s nothing. Let it go.”

“I would if I believed that, but you’re acting like—”

“I’m acting like what? Annoyed? Bored? Because I am of this conversation.”

Damon strode for the door, expecting for his brother to call him back. Stefan never bothered, sitting quietly like some epiphany was hitting that Cro-Magnon skull of his at a hundred miles per hour. Damon’s agitation flared, and outside he got into the driver’s side of Bonnie’s truck, a little disgruntled when he discovered that his company for the three-hour trip back to Mystic Falls turned out to be Lucy. 

“Bonnie okay back there?” he asked her.

“My spells are in place.”

“Secure, warm and snug?” he teased.

Lucy ignored the bait. “Don’t drive faster than ten miles above the speed limit,” she advised him, coldly. She’d accepted his chicken-shit decision, but apparently she didn’t have to like it. “We don’t want to be pulled over by a cop with what’s in the back.”

“You mean an unconscious girl?” Damon sneered back. “Sweetheart, I’ve done this kinda thing before.”

“Yeah, that’s just creepy as fuck.”

Damon grunted, starting the engine. His brother emerged from the house with Elena, Alaric and Caroline. They all climbed into Caroline’s sedan, but the entire time Damon felt intensely aware of Stefan’s knowing gaze, studying and trying to dissect Damon from across the driveway like Damon was a puzzle to be figured out.

 _Good luck. You figure it out, make sure to clue me in._

“We going, or what?” Lucy prodded, agitated.

He pulled the car into reverse, and despite Lucy’s frequent complaints, sped along all the highways towards Mystic Falls.


	9. Chapter 9

_They were all dead._

 _Bonnie stood amongst a pile of bodies. Stefan’s limbs had been torn from his body, and Elena had been drained. A stake had been driven through Caroline’s body, and Tyler’s neck had been twisted around a full 180° degrees. Bonnie could barely keep sturdy on her legs, feeling queasy and confused._

 _Damon walked across the field to her. He stared at the massacre, and then turned accusing eyes to Bonnie._

 _“What did you do?” he exhaled in anger._

 _Bonnie started crying. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to—”_

* * *

Night had fallen. 

Damon lost sight of the other car somewhere along I-95, but it didn’t matter because the route to his hometown was a straight-shot. Despite his misgivings, Lucy proved to be the silent type of company and they had similar tastes in music so there wasn’t much argument over the radio. That was the exact opposite of Bonnie. He remembered all too well needling the younger Bennett witch the entire trip down to Alaric’s place and beyond. He sorta missed it.

His mind was singularly focused on Bonnie the entire drive, even when he struggled for a distraction. He kept thinking about the last moment he’d seen her, before she’d done the spell, standing in the halo of the car lights as him and Alaric had pulled away. She’d been left alone at the end of it, and whether she’d known it or not, she’d sacrificed herself in order to save Stefan – and a big chuck of that responsibility, Damon knew, landed squarely on his own shoulders. 

There were times when Damon mourned the safe dependability that had encapsulated his previous outlook on life when he’d been a merciless vampire. Things had been simple then, straightforward. It wasn’t just the astronomical differences between his previous life and now. Every now and then he unnerved himself. 

A single thought persisted in his head: Bonnie deserved better. The girl had always run headfirst into whatever chaos had erupted, trying her best to help, and she’d never asked for anything in return. Not a single time. It was one of the annoyingly dependable things about Bonnie Bennett. For as judgy as she was, as hassling as her holier-than-thou attitude had been at times, a thorn in his side, she’d always held herself to even higher standards. She’d suffered the loss of her entire family, and though it had turned her jaded, among other people the grief would have left a lasting bitterness. Damon had that blight over his own soul. He’d always suffered each lash of indignity and loss like he had been robbed, had been stripped of something that was rightfully his. Bonnie, of course, had just squared her jaw and renewed her manifesto of reasons to fight the good fight. 

Damon still remembered the feeling that had washed over him all those years ago when Bonnie had finally admitted one night – after a few too many drinks and even more endless nights of worrying about Klaus – that she considered him someone she could finally trust. A friend. He’d held it as a marker that he had changed, and he’d proven it – because if Bonnie Bennett of all people liked him, he couldn’t be  _all_  bad. Funny how he never realized how much her opinion of him mattered – not until she’d left Mystic Falls behind without a word, and Damon had quietly sulked for days afterwards over the fact that he hadn’t ranked among the numbers that deserved a farewell. He thought he’d mattered more than that, but he hadn’t, apparently. 

Given the reason for her abrupt departure was a valid one, Damon knew he had been a bit unfair. The only instance she’d ever backed away from a struggle had been after Klaus had killed her father, and even then she’d stuck out the fight until it was over and had only left Mystic Falls after. Bonnie was like that. She would never leave her friends in a bind, even at her lowest. She was better than him.

She  _deserved_  better than him.

Quietly from the passenger seat, Lucy removed another cigarette from her pack of Marlboros, lighting it quickly. In deference to the smoke, she cracked open the window and rested her elbow half hanging out of the truck. A few seconds of drafty wind left Lucy rubbing her arms briskly against the chill, but Damon pretended not to notice the temperature drop. Shoulders slumping, a headache rampaged behind his eyes, which he put down to stress. No big surprise there.

He tapped a finger against the steering wheel. “You always chain-smoke this much?” Damon asked her, nodding to the cigarette. “Hasn't anybody ever told you that it's bad for the your health.”

Lucy snorted. “Honey, you cannot fathom the immensity of the fuck that I do not give. Cancer is not gonna be the reason we die. Besides, smoking helps with the stress.”

“Yeah, well, cut it back a little. I’m human now. Gotta watch out for that second-hand smoke.” He added flippantly with a smirk, “And anyway, what’s there to be stressed about?”

There was a long pause, and then she said quietly, too serious, “I can’t stop thinking about what I saw in her nightmares.”

Damon bowed his head and gripped the steering wheel; searching for his center and knowing he wasn’t going to find it anytime soon. It was like an obsession for him now, revisiting his history with Bonnie and how it had changed. He realized with a dart of foreboding that he’d been off-kilter ever since Bonnie had come back into town. He knew what that meant, and he  _really_  didn’t need to think that way. The way they’d played off each other had become a place of familiarity to Damon, the tug and pull of her exasperation, the way she’d look at him with an amused threat if he didn’t back off his antics immediately – and yet there was a perceptive understanding too, like she saw him for what he was, the lowest parts, and still for some unfathomable reason had decided he wasn’t worth setting on fire. 

He’d never really get over that. Bonnie knew what he was – and unlike Elena, she’d never overlooked his many flaws in favor of what he was trying to become. He’d  _earned_  her trust the hard way, through action, and now it felt like he was betraying that same trust now by choosing to go the coward’s route with the lifebond. His first kiss with Bonnie had been explosive, but they’d leapt apart afterwards – and now he had all these questions hanging over his head and he was too chicken-shit to confront them head-on. 

He felt Lucy’s stare, and didn’t bother to glance over. “I know that look. I don’t even have to see your face, and I know that look. Bennett witches and their  _judging_.”

“Hey, I get it. I do. You don’t want to be tied to a girl for the rest of your life. I can’t even handle a three-month relationship, so I get commitment-phobia. But this? This isn’t about the lifebond.”

“It bears a factor,” Damon tossed in, tartly.

She remained unconvinced. "Her life and her sanity is at stake. She did the same thing for you. When it came down to it, she didn’t hesitate to lifebond with you to save your life.”

He rolled his shoulders uneasily to work out a kink, but he couldn’t work out the agitation of that undeniable fact. He had a flashback to the car accident, to the abrupt crash and the thick haze of searing pain. He’d been out of it, but Damon remembered bits and pieces. He remembered enough. Bonnie had found him half-dead on his way to full-dead. She hadn’t hesitated in tying herself to him, and why? As eureka moments went, it was a doozy and Damon couldn’t figure it out. Why she’d risk that, even temporarily? 

“So,” he asked, before he could stop himself. “What  _did_  you see in Bonnie’s pretty little head?”

Lucy scrubbed a hand across the back of her neck, like she was trying to wipe away some imaginary filth. “You know how Bonnie is – she’s got the weight of the world on her shoulders. She’s not like me, or you. She gives a damn. Her nightmare is just so predictable it’s a little heartbreaking. She felt responsible for everyone’s death and downfall. That’s how it’s trying to drive her insane.”

He went stiff, every muscle locking into place.  _Of course._  He knew Bonnie; it figured that the way to undo her was to take her inflated sense of responsibility and then choke her with it. Simple, yet effective. 

“Was it working?”

Lucy stared out the window. “Yes.”

Damon remained stock rigid as the statement settled into silence. He tried to pull back from elaborating on the simple word, concentrating instead to steer his imagination away towards other topics. It didn’t work. Guilt and unease morphed into concern, blocking out the fact that they missed the junction he should have taken.

Distantly, he heard Lucy say, “It’s only been a day for us, but inside her head, it felt like she’d been trapped there for much longer. Everybody was turning on her.”

She was alone. 

With only a limited shred of control, Damon managed to keep the truck on the road. The thought reverberated in his skull, echoing with deafening significance. He couldn’t deny it; the panic he felt in his veins wasn’t something he would feel for an old friend or even a good friend. The agitation he felt was something deeper, more real.

Before he could stop to think about it, he veered the truck onto a hard curve of the shoulder. The tires jumped off pavement and skidded onto dirt, then slammed to a screeching halt when Damon hit the brakes. Lucy was staring at him like he was crazy.

“Fine,” he declared. “Then lets do this.”

Twisting in her seat, Lucy asked unsteadily, “You… you sure?”

“Not even a little,” Damon answered bluntly. “But you better get to it before I change my mind.”

Lucy didn’t need to be told twice. She jumped out of the truck and rounded to the back, getting Bonnie’s body ready. Damon fought his agitation and anxiety in the cab for a moment, willing his sanity to return, willing him to once – just  _once_  – make the smart choice instead of the emotional one. But it didn’t work. He felt off-kilter but the choice had been made, and nothing else mattered. Damon was going to do this.

He hopped out and found Lucy had climbed onto the bed of the truck. She waved him forward, so Damon scaled up the side and landed next to Bonnie’s prone body. Her face was lifeless, pale and void of expression. But Lucy must have sensed something psychically from Bonnie because she frowned, hesitating for a fraction of a second before reaching down to heave Bonnie up into a sitting position.

“We have to hurry,” Lucy advised in a low whisper of concern.

“How does this work?”

“I’m a freshman in this particular brand of magic, so I’m not exactly sure how to answer that. I’ll try…” she hesitated, avoiding eye-contact. “I’ll try to make it as unobtrusive as possible, for you. The link.”

Damon could’ve laughed. It didn’t matter. The writing was on the wall, and he knew exactly where this choice would lead. He’d seen it coming with Katherine, and he’d seen it coming with Elena. He hadn’t been able to stop either train-wreck. It wasn’t any different this time. Apparently, Damon just wasn’t the type to learn. 

“Is there,” Damon began, but he struggled to marshal his words together when anxiety and anticipation was making him dizzy. “Just answer me two questions. Is there any way I could learn to block the effects of the lifebond?”

Lucy hesitated, and then said, bluntly, “Not really, no. You might learn to lessen it, a little. But not by much. It’ll mostly just grow.”

Damon wished the woman would have lied a little just to ease his discomfort, but he had to admire her for being truthful when the consequences of any hesitation on his part would leave them back at square one. His eyes darkened, looking at Bonnie’s slack face. 

“What’s your second question?” Lucy asked, softly.

Damon licked his lips. “If Bonnie wanted – I mean, if she  _wanted_  to,” he looked up, the words strangled loose, “could she return it? Could she share the lifebond?”

Lucy paused for a beat, then answered, “Yes." Damon tried not to read into the pity on her face, but he knew she must have thought the possibility would likely never arise. He thought the same thing. He wasn’t fooling himself. Bonnie Bennett had always been the girl too smart to fall for any of his bullshit. 

But still, there was a chance.

“Hold her,” Lucy instructed. “You need to have as much physical contact with Bonnie as possible.”

Damon hesitated, then reached forward and drew Bonnie into his arms so that she settled heavily against his chest. He tucked her head under his chin, and suffered a brief stab of déjà vu, remembering how he’d cradled Rose just like this as she sat, dying. The thought left him feeling sick. 

“Her nightmares gonna be confusing. Get in,” Lucy advised, “Get out. Don’t dally.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

* * *

 _Bonnie didn’t know what was going on, but she didn’t have the strength to figure it out. Huddled in the corner, she kept her eyes screwed shut. She leaned her chin on her drawn-up knees. There was the thick chopper smell of blood hanging in the air, refusing to disperse. Bonnie felt the thread on her sanity quiver; if she opened her eyes, she’d see the bodies, the dead – everyone she ever cared about. Bonnie couldn’t handle it anymore._

 _Suddenly there was light from a corner of the room, blinding. It grew to illuminate the entire area, until Bonnie had to shield her eyes from the source. She could hear a voice in the distance, calling to her. It was familiar and male, but it took a second to place it._

 _“Bonnie,” Damon called, and he sounded sickened._

 _Bonnie kept her eyes screwed shut. This was just another painful moment, another person to accuse and vilify her. It was all her fault, she knew – but she couldn’t stand to hear it anymore._

 _“Bonnie,” he breathed, and she heard his urgent movements come closer. He must’ve crouched down in front of her because she felt him rest a hand on her knee. She tensed, and he immediately jerked back. “Bonnie, open your eyes.”_

 _“Go away,” she breathed out in a whisper. “Just – go away. I don’t… I don’t—”_

 _“Hey, hey, hey,” and his voice sounded different, softer. “Relax, calm down. I’m not here to hurt you.”_

 _Bonnie almost laughed. He should have been the one to be afraid; she was the dangerous one, the unpredictable one. It was her hand behind all of the bloodshed. She knew it now. There was no point in denying it. It had played over and over again, and Bonnie had lost count of the number of times she had seen her friends die._

 _Damon cupped her chin and tugged it up, and Bonnie tried not to flinch against the touch. _Why was he being gentle?_  She felt the air change a little, like a draft from an open window had swept through the room. The odor of blood cleared, and Bonnie thought she smelled leather and pine oil._

“Open your eyes now,” Damon said. “Trust me.”

Bonnie hesitated, but the impetuousness of the moment left her eyes drifting open. The sight that greeted her kept her staring for a beat. Instead of the blood, instead of the bodies, the space had cleared and they were left in a large bedroom with open windows, clean and tastefully decorated with a four-poster bed near the east wall. It felt familiar, but only hazily. It took a beat for her to place it, and when she did, she realized they were in Damon’s bedroom from the boarding house. She’d never actually been inside it; had only seen it from the outside when she’d passed it in the hallway on the way to the guestroom she called her own.

“You’re all right,” he assured her. “You’re safe now.”

Bonnie wanted to believe him, but it was probably just another trick. “You can’t fool me. I know how this goes. Just do it, and get it over with. I know what’s coming.”

Damon raised an eyebrow. “Really, you do? And how does the script go?”

“You all yell. You all accuse. And then you all die. Lather, rinse, repeat.”

“I’m not here for that.”

“That’s all there is,” Bonnie insisted. 

Damon’s face closed off, looking away briefly as he got his emotions under control. Bonnie sensed what would come now; braced herself for the burst of anger. She waited for the familiar indictments to start raining down, but he simply dropped a hand on his bended knee, then lifted her chin with his knuckles so that they were eye-to-eye.

Damon huffed out a breath. “Relax, sweetheart, I’m different from everything else here. C’mon, Bonnie, think about it. Recognize me.”

She studied him a little. Damon was acting different – well, no, not different. Actually, he was acting like the old Damon, the one she knew from before. The one that had never stood beside her in front of Fell’s Church in 1864, watching idly by as she’d been burned alive. The one that had never been beheaded, staked or set aflame in an increasing methods of brutal demises. 

Something wasn’t making sense. This place didn’t make sense. 

“It’s all in your head,” Damon told her, encouraging. “Or, well, except for me. I’m real. Everything else, though? Designed to make you go insane.” He studied her for a beat, squinting his eyes in concern. “Hopefully I made it in time.”

“About damn time,” a voice entered the fray, too familiar, too arrogant. Damon and Bonnie whirled to find her doppleganger leaning against the bedpost, amused smirk fixed rigidly in place. “Could you have taken any longer to ride in on a white stead? Bonnie here was almost as good as gone.” She threw a disdainful look at Bonnie. “Still might be, actually.”

Damon raised an eyebrow, trading a look back and forth between Bonnie and her double. “And you would be?” he asked her double.

“Oh, you know, I’m just a girl,” her doppleganger rose off the bed, smiling as she approached Damon with a leisurely stroll, in black boots that had six-inch spiked heels. “Looking to have a good time. You wouldn’t be able to help me out with that, would you?”

Damon froze for a beat, staring at her and studying the way she moved. Her double’s smile seemed to widen, and then Damon was moving back, standing in the space between Bonnie and her double. 

“She’s a vampire,” Bonnie whispered, keeping her distance. “She’s the one that hurts people.”

Damon nodded, as if he’d already figured that out. “And what does she want?”

The other-her studied Damon with her head tipped at an angle. “You know, you were something back in your heyday. Everybody knew Damon Salvatore. Everybody feared him. Now look at you. You’re practically neutered. That must suck, huh?”

Damon adopted a bored expression. “Are you Bonnie’s Id out to play? All subconscious desires and inhibitions let free? Because if you are, man, I gotta say I could get used to the new look.” He flashed a smile. “Though, the bitch routine? Seen it done better by a vamp or two in my time.”

"You talking about Katherine, the girl that neutered you in the first place?"

"Well, you know what they say? Better to have loved and lost than to have lived with a psycho for the rest of your life."

Bonnie tugged Damon’s arm, urging him to take a step away from her double. “We’re leaving now. We should leave.”

Her doppleganger nodded. “About time, too. Figured you would have left already, but you sure took your time getting cozy with the crazy.”

Damon motioned with a hand, incredulous. “So, you’re just gonna let us go like that?”

Her double shrugged. “I want you to leave. I’m trapped in here just as much as she is. When she gets loose, that’s when I can get loose too. Caroline’s blood? Pumping in her veins? My ticket out of here.”

Bonnie’s face darkened with confusion. “What? What do you mean by—”

“Get her out,” her double ordered, backed up by a silent threat. “Go towards the white light. Literally.”

“White light?” Damon repeated. “Seriously?”

“The clichés are clichés for a reason, apparently.”

That corner light suddenly returned, building with intensity again. Bonnie blinked, raising a hand to block out the glare and Damon immediately grabbed her hand, tugging her forward. Bonnie resisted.

Bonnie turned back to her double. “Is it real? Are you real?”

“C’mon,” Damon urged. “Let’s just get the fuck out of here, Bonnie.”

“Oh, sweetie,” her double answered, amused. “You’re so fucked up right now, you don’t even know it, do you? You’ll go free, but you’ll remember what happened here. You’ll be infected by it. Good luck, Bonnie. You’re going to need it.”

That corner light built again, blinding with its glare. Bonnie took one last look at her doppleganger, and then everything around her and Damon bled into whiteness.

The last thing she saw was her double, smiling in victory.

* * *

“Wake up, Bonnie,” Lucy encouraged, as Damon sat up and rubbed the exhaustion from his eyes. That dream, the other-Bonnie – he had a feeling that he’d only touched the surface of the nightmare. “That’s right, just open those pretty eyes of yours and—”

“Her eyes are opening?” Damon asked, with too much desperation.

Lucy silenced him with a  _shh_. Damon just kept still, unwilling to jump to conclusions. It had taken a few minutes for Bonnie’s consciousness to return after his, but already he could see that signs of life were returning to her. No, he could  _sense_  it. The lifebond was back, humming beneath his skin. He tried not to get his hopes up, but when Bonnie’s eyes eventually fluttered open, the rush of relief that shot through him was almost dizzying.

“Bonnie?” he breathed, settling her against the side of the truck so that he could face her. 

Bonnie looked up to him, and then to Lucy.

A psychic wave slammed into them. 

Before Damon had even registered it, they both went flying back into the air. Damon landed in a heap on the grassy ground, but Lucy hit a tree and was knocked unconscious on impact. He grunted as he rolled onto his side, winded. From the bed of the truck, Bonnie had risen, face pale and ashen, wild-eyed. She looked to the fallen, and the expression on Bonnie’s face was one Damon had only recently come to recognize. She looked as lost and scared as she’d been when he’d found her in her dream, caked with the blood of others. It was a bracing moment of stillness, and then Bonnie jumped off the truck.

Damon struggled to his feet. “Wait! Don’t—”

He felt the impact of another punch, invisible to the naked eye. Bonnie threw him back to the ground with a force that left Damon kissing the dirt. He spat up a bit of blood, feeling where his lip had torn open. By the time he flipped back over, he discovered that Bonnie had fled, taking off into the woods like her life was in danger.

She wasn’t thinking; she was still scared. 

He paused briefly when he heard Lucy groaning. She looked up, spotted Bonnie, and groaned again. “Go!” she told him. “Go get her!”

He didn’t need to be told twice, though even as he took off after her, a part of him wondered how he’d handle Bonnie and her powers. The woods felt like blackness, too dark for his human eyes to discern; he followed the path that Bonnie had taken, and took a few minutes to orient himself with the surroundings. They were about two hours from Mystic Falls, but the place was still vaguely familiar. As he searched about, he dimly recognized the area as the same spot where Stuart’s cavalry had bloodied his infantry during the Civil War, a mere three weeks before Damon had deserted the forces. The memory didn’t help him any, and he doubted Bonnie would have been up for the history lesson.

She was scared, and dangerous. Damon thought furiously about how to handle this.

He finally found her at the edge of a small river basin, where the water was more of a trickle than a stream. She was standing with her back to him, but Damon knew better than to assume she wasn’t aware of his presence. The nearly full moon above their heads cast an unearthly glow on her, and Damon swallowed past the anxiety in the back of his throat. He felt her fear, he felt her confusion – she had no idea what was going on, and the only thing that she remembered was the guilt brought-on by a timeless amount of mental torture. 

Had Damon hesitated for too long in getting her out?

“Bonnie,” he called.

She turned slowly, as timid as a scared animal, but Damon recognized that she was really as dangerous as a wounded one. Raising his hands in deference to her state of mind, he showed her that he had no weapons and intended no harm. Her eyes searched him with a slight tilt to her head, nonplussed. Damon knew the feeling. As volatile as she was, he felt a rush of emotions that made it hard to keep his head clear. 

“What…” she managed, blinking a little. “What’s going on?”

“You’re safe,” he said, “You’re awake, Bonnie. Everything’s fine.”

She paused, and her eyes flittered around and then settled on him again. He still hadn’t closed the gap, keeping a wide breadth of at least ten feet between them. Hands itching to touch her, he clenched his fists and dropped them to his sides. 

Bonnie was breathing heavily, looking like the adrenaline was still pumping through her veins wildly. “Where is everybody?” she asked.

He tried to offer a casual shrug. “The others are probably nearing Mystic Falls. As far as your cousin, I’m still sure she’s recovering from the head-wound you just gave her.”

“Lucy?” she breathed in confusion, and it looked like the mention of her cousin threw her. She hadn’t been expecting that. Some clarity returned to her eyes, like cobwebs were being wiped clean. She regarded Damon with a defensive posture, but it was easing, inch-by-inch, second-by-second. “Is this… is this real?”

“Yes,” he answered her, as firmly as he could. “Unless you want to admit to me being the man of your dreams.”

His dry humor was ignored. She looked to the stream again, then back up to the moon, like she was working something out with her senses. He didn’t know what. She closed her eyes, and breathed once deeply, then twice. On the second exhale, she opened her eyes again and color flooded her cheeks. 

“God,” Bonnie choked out, relieved. “This  _is_  real.”

He glanced up to find Lucy suddenly standing at Bonnie's back. Lucy covered Bonnie's crown with her fingers and muttered a spell, and then, instantly, Bonnie’s eyes rolled back in her head, knees buckling. Lucy caught her around the waist before she hit the ground.

“What’d you do that for?” he demanded. “I could have calmed her down.”

“We don’t have time,” Lucy said. “She’ll be fine. She’s just passed out.”

Lucy had a trail of blood running down the left side of temple, and there was a cell phone in her hand. The look on her face was agitated. She bent to examine Bonnie with a closer scrutiny. 

“There’s been some developments,” Lucy informed him, tossing him the cell phone. “And she wouldn’t stay calm, not after I’m about to say. We need to keep her calm.”

“What happened?”

“I just got a call from Elena. You should check your messages more often. Her brother’s escaped from his cozy little cellar.”

Damon tensed up, alarmed and incredulous. “What? How did that happen?”

“Something about a werewolf getting suckered?” Lucy said, shrugging. “No one was killed, but it’s still early. They need me to double-time it back to Mystic Falls to see if I can track the newbie vamp down.”

“Well, wake up Bonnie and—”

“No,” Lucy cut in, fiercely. “We are not bringing her back to Mystic Falls like this. Clearly, she’s got some issues to work out and that town is no place for rest. I’ll drop you off at the nearest motel. Take a day or two to get her back on her feet. I can handle Mystic Falls in the meantime.”

“If there’s trouble, you don’t put your best player on the bench,” Damon argued. “Bonnie’s mom, and Jeremy on the loose? You’re going to need my help.”

“My priority is my cousin,” Lucy returned tartly. “You take care of her, and I’ll take care of whatever problems are waiting for her back in Mystic Falls. The girl’s been through enough. It’s about time somebody started taking care of her instead of her taking care of everybody else.”

Damon paused. “And you expect that to be me?”

Lucy pinned him with a knowing look. “You gonna decline?”

He let the silence speak for itself. Lucy nodded, rising to her feet, and Damon had no choice but to follow along. His knees protested when he lifted Bonnie into his arms. They went back to the truck, where Lucy got behind the driver’s seat and keyed the engine.

“You sure you want to head back to Mystic Falls without us?”

Lucy tipped him a smile, with blood still coming down the side of her face. “Baby, this isn’t my first rodeo. I’ll be fine.” 

* * *

The nearest place turned out to be a small bed-and-breakfast. Damon paid cash and with Lucy’s help, brought Bonnie in through the back. The bedroom was decorated like someone threw up flower patterns everywhere – it was on the upholstery of the couch, the bedspread, the curtains, the pillowcases. Damon shrugged off his annoyance and deposited Bonnie onto the bed.

When Lucy finally revived Bonnie again, Bonnie proved to be a little more coherent, but not by much. Damon watched as the two exchanged a few whispered words of a reunion and Lucy kissed her forehead softly before she rose to her feet. Bonnie was still a little too out-of-it, like she fighting to think through a haze. Her responses were slow, inhibited. Lucy was right; this was no condition for her to return to Mystic Falls. 

“I’m fine,” Bonnie insisted, in such a thin, rasping voice that it convinced  _no one_. 

She brought her hand up to her throat, and Lucy took a second to rummage through her bag and returned with a bottled water. Bonnie took it and swallowed a few gulps. She was still pale, and haggard looking, and seemed to think a few minutes catnap was enough to recover from the stretch of torture she’d just been through.

“Don’t even argue with me about this, cuz,” Lucy threatened. “I did not come all the way down here and fix you up just so you could run back and—”

“I should be—”

“Resting,” Lucy threatened, brokering no argument. “Take a day or two. The world won’t fall apart in that time.”

“You don’t know Mystic Falls,” Bonnie argued, tiredly. “How?” she asked, still working through all the details. “How did I get out of that dream?”

Damon froze. 

Lucy traded a look with him, and then cut her eyes to Bonnie with a bright smile. “You owe me, cuz. What else is new?”

Damon released a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding in. But Bonnie had hidden the bond from him at first, so turnabout was only fair game. Besides, Bonnie wasn’t in the state of mind to deal with the ramifications of what he’d done. 

Lucy grabbed her bag and swung it over her shoulders. “Get some rest.”

“I’ve been comatose for nearly two days,” Bonnie argued, “I’ve gotten enough rest.”

“Tell that to the bags under your eyes,” Lucy threw back. 

Lucy turned to him. Damon felt himself pinned with another look that said,  _take care of her_  without the words ever passing her lips. He walked her to the front door, where Lucy threw one last look over her shoulder at Bonnie.

"Stay below radar," she whispered to him. "Don't do anything stupid."

"Define stupid?"

"Whatever your instincts say," she tossed back, lightly, "do the opposite."

She left without another word.

The door creaked shut, and Damon turned back to find Bonnie staring into space, out of focus. He cleared his throat and Bonnie jumped slightly, blinking at him like she was seeing him for the first time. She settled heavily onto bed, and scrubbed a hand through her hair, twining her fingers together at the base of her neck. 

Damon shifted from one foot to the other, studying her. This version of Bonnie was unsettling him – almost as much as his urge to comfort her was throwing his bearings. She looked like a lost little girl, so starkly different to the powerful witch he knew she was, and Damon didn’t know what to do with that.

“Get some rest,” he eventually said. “And enjoy one of the few instances of chivalry I have ever shown, because I’ll be taking the lumpy couch.”

Bonnie nodded, edging back into the bed and curling up without even bothering to change her clothes or use the washroom. Damon walked across the room and turned out the single light, plunging them into darkness. He threw a small quilt over her to fend off the chill, but Bonnie barely noticed and didn’t comment. The sound of her faint breathing followed him as he went back to the couch, then settled heavily onto the soft cushions. 

He sat watching the rough outline of her body curled up in a tight ball on the bed for a long time, lost in the hours just watching her for any sign of life or movement. It never really came. Eventually, he pulled off his shirt and shucked off his shoes, stretching out on the lumpy sofa with the soft sounds of her even breathing creating a lullaby.

* * *

He woke up to the smell of smoke. 

At first, it barely registered. Then, the faint glow cast off by the fire had Damon turning over on the sofa. To his alarm, he discovered Bonnie had lit the coffee table on fire. He cursed, bolting up. She stared off into the empty space where the flames began to mount, hypnotized by her own creation. Looking wildly around, Damon grabbed the nearby vase of flowers and yanked out the sunflowers in order to toss the water onto the table. It didn’t work.

“Bonnie!” he urged, cursing under his breath. “Bonnie, snap out of it!”

Bonnie just kept staring blankly at the fire as it grew. 

He grabbed the quilt off the bed and started swinging it at the flames, attempting the smother the fire. It took a few attempts, but eventually he was successful. 

“What the hell, Bonnie?” he demanded, whirling on her. 

She was still out of it, barely in the same universe as him, much less in the same room. Emotions nipped at him. He strode up and grabbed her by the arms, yanking her up and into focus like a finger-snap. She gasped, then looked wildly around, as if she’d just noticed her surroundings. 

“What—” she began, before she noticed the ruined coffee table. Realization dawned on her. “Oh, god.”

“What’s going on, Bonnie?”

“I don’t know!” she cried, then yanked herself free, dropping back onto the mattress. She scrambled off to the side and backed up, staring in horror at her handy work. She shook her head as if to dispel some afterimage in her head. “I don’t know,” she breathed, softer this time but no less desperate. “What’s happening to me?”

Damon felt like he couldn’t draw breath into his lungs. He stared at Bonnie and realized he didn’t know what to do, or how to remotely handle her in this condition. She buckled to the ground, legs caving under her like there were suddenly no strings holding her up anymore. A sob tore through her. He went to her side but she flinched back at first. He withdrew his hands, and Bonnie struggled for breath, trying to get herself under control but the emotions proved too rampant. She looked wildly around, anywhere but at him, like she was ashamed, and her eyes flooded with unshed tears.

“It’s all right,” he soothed, trying to make it obvious he wouldn’t judge. “Just let it out, Bonnie. Let it out.”

Her body wracked with another choked sob. Damon reached for her again, slowly, unsure of what reaction he’d get, and when he finally managed to touch her, he grew emboldened when she didn’t recoil again. He whispered some other mindless words of comfort and Bonnie broke out into a cry and this time she couldn’t stop. 

She collapsed against him, her body wracked with sobs. He cradled her, and she was shivering and trembling, leaning heavily against him like she couldn’t keep upright without his sturdy frame. Damon could feel the onslaught of her emotions through his bond, how the relief and confusion was like this toxic cocktail that played havoc with her senses. It scared him to see her like this. Bonnie was usually so in-control. He tugged the blanket off the bed and draped it over her, kissing the top of her head in comfort.

He had no idea how long they stayed that way.

* * *

When Bonnie woke up, it was to an unusual sensation. 

The morning light flittered in through the half-open drapes, and she looked down to realize she was stretched out on the couch, her feet in Damon’s lap. He was sitting up at one end of the sofa, but asleep, head braced against the cushioned back. She had taken up nearly eighty percent of the space, lying horizontal with her feet cradled in his hands, like he’d fallen asleep rubbing warmth back into them. Bonnie lifted her head, and though it wasn’t anything as intimate as sleeping in a bed together, she was overcome by the cozy position and the image it presented. Slowly, she pulled her feet away from him, careful not to wake him, and swung her legs over the edge of the couch, sitting up.

She fled into the bathroom. The door shut behind her and Bonnie turned, and what she saw in the vanity mirror made her flinch. Her eyes were sunken, her skin was sickly pale, and her hair hung limply around her face. She looked like hell. The days’ toll had taken a lot out of her, almost too much. 

She closed her eyes and forced a calming breath. She was smack dab in the middle of an impossible situation, and that was before factoring in the messes of finding herself entangled with Damon Salvatore in the middle of the night. She needed to get her head on straight, but she couldn’t stop thinking about a dozen unsettling things, not the least of which ranked finding comfort in the arms of the former-vampire.

Bonnie drew in another breath. She only had distorted memories of what she’d seen in her dreams, but it continued to rattle her down to her bones. Something told her it was more than just a nightmare. It felt… it felt like a premonition, and it only reinforced the horrors of Ben’s vision from their prior meeting. Every which way she looked, she was faced with the afterimage of her death and all the consequences that could arise out of it. She kept picturing the way she’d seen her friends die and how she’d been responsible for it. The images haunted her. 

She had the worries of her mother, and the worries of Jeremy, and a dozen other supernatural concerns – she had to get her head on straight. And falling asleep half on top of Damon was hardly a mark of her normal behavior. 

The warring emotions and responsibilities were beginning to choke the life out of her. She was just one person. How was she supposed to prevent what was starting to feel like their own personal Armageddon? Bonnie groaned, dropping her hands onto the sides of the sink. She gripped tightly on the porcelain and looked up at her reflection.

 _Pull it together, Bonnie. You can’t afford to break apart now._


	10. Chapter 10

Damon spent the early morning doing errands. While Bonnie slept in, he crept out and took a cab to the local haunts, grabbing a few essentials and something light to eat for breakfast. By the time he made it back to the B&B, Bonnie had finally uncurled herself from hibernation and was in the bathroom taking a shower. He knocked on the door, told her he’d brought a few spare changes of clothing for her, and threw in a joke about guessing the size of bra cup. He waited a beat for the inevitable comeback, but to his agitation, it never came.

Dropping the clothes on the counter outside the bathroom doorway, Damon strode towards the draped window and stared out at the scenery. A feeling of discomfort washed over him. He didn’t like how Bonnie was fairing in the aftermath of her coma; he’d seen her nightmare, but he had a feeling that he’d only scratched the surface and the lasting effects to her mental psyche would play a factor in the upcoming days. Her doppleganger’s words echoed in his head as a warning, _“Caroline’s blood? Pumping in her veins? My ticket out of here.”_ It was probably just the standard paranoia that nightmares wrought, but Damon reflected on the taunt.

A vampire version of Bonnie? Could wreck epic amounts of havoc, for sure. But another twelve hours, and he wouldn’t have to worry about it. Caroline’s blood in Bonnie’s body would dissipate entirely by then.

He widened the drapes a little more and stared out. The small town of Saratoga reminded him of Mystic Falls, with its quaint décor and old-fashioned architecture. Damon imagined on the surface it wasn’t all that different to a dozen other places in Virginia, but he felt uneasy and impatient. Back home, Stefan and the others were dealing with issues and beyond a few updates and quick phone calls, Damon didn’t know much of what was happening. Jeremy was still loose, and Damon knew all too well what a vampire could do when he was dead-set on making a name for himself.

Grimacing at the reminder of his old ways, Damon’s gaze dropped to his right hand. On his ring finger, there was the old Salvatore emblem, the ring that had protected him from sunlight for over a century and a half. It was just a decoration now. It didn’t have the same magical abilities to protect him as a human as Jeremy’s ring once did. He stared at the ring, something that had been a part of him for as long as he could remember, and then, almost reverently, slipped the ring off.

He stood under direct sunlight. It was a beat, almost closer to a few seconds, where Damon bathed himself in the sun and closed his eyes, inhaling in on the significance of the moment.

He hadn’t had time to appreciate the simple things thus far. The fact that he could stand under the sun, with no magical protections in place, was a certifiable miracle. Damon opened his eyes, staring into the halo of the sun until he threatened to go blind, then returned his attention to the Salvatore ring. He brought it up to the window, letting the gem at the center catch the light. An impulse in him wanted to recklessly toss the ring away, but another part of him couldn’t stand to part with the piece of jewelry that had signified a major chunk of his life. The ring was older than him, passed down from generation to generation.

He wasn’t a vampire anymore, but he was still a Salvatore.

Wrapping his fingers around the ring, he turned around. Bonnie was standing in the middle of the room behind him. Her hair was damp, and she wore an off-white terry bathrobe in deference to the fact that the only clean clothes she had on hand were the ones he’d just bought her. Damon wondered how long she’d been watching him.

“Let me see the ring,” she said, and stretched out her hand.

Damon stared at her for a beat, then slowly obliged. He dropped the ring into her open palm and watched as she closed her eyes, sensing something with her magical abilities. Damon felt an itch of uncomfortable curiosity. He’d kept that ring on him at all times for the last one hundred and fifty years, and it was strange to be apart from it for even a few seconds, and stranger even to see it within someone else’s grasp.

He tried to play it off like he didn’t care. “Don’t break it,” he joked, breaking through her concentration, and slipped by her before she could comment. He went for the bathroom. “Taking a shower, if you don’t mind. Tell me you left some hot water?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He closed the bathroom door behind him, and rested his head on the doorframe, trying to get his thoughts in order. He felt… off-center, all of a sudden. He felt confused and weirded out, and it took a second to realize that the sight of Bonnie holding his ring had thrown him. Why? Why did it freak him out so much?

He tried to shake off the thought, and quickly undressed, ignoring the fact that the bathroom was already too humid with the steam and scent of Bonnie’s recent shower. He inhaled, unconsciously imprinting the scent of her shampoo, and quickly stepped into the tub. His mind drifted to the fleeting thought of her naked, the image she must have presented a few minutes ago in this very bathroom, and he quickly latched onto that because lust was a thing he understood. Lust was something easy and familiar. He let the fantasy take control, imagining her dark skin, wet with heat; he imagined pressing her into the shower wall, flushed cheeks and dark hair, void of that vacant look of fear he’d seen on her face from the prior night. He tried to banish any deeper thoughts, any stronger emotions, because he wanted to keep things simple and impure.

He stroked himself until he came, hands shaking, and at the end of it he just ended up frustrated with himself even more, frustrated with her and the hold she now had on him. A claim that he knew would only grow.

History repeating itself.

* * *

When he finally emerged, Bonnie was dressed and drying her hair. The ring was left on the corner table, and Damon went over and covertly slipped it back on. He dropped onto the couch, opening up the bag of bagels. Bonnie hadn’t touched the breakfast, so he called out to her and swiftly tossed a bagel her way, watching as she caught it with a look of surprise.

“Eat,” he told her.

She dropped it on the table, uninterested. “I’m not hungry.”

“Eat anyway,” he ordered, almost annoyed, doing that eye thing he did when he was trying to allude to innocence and just wound up looking all the more guilty. “You were in pretty bad shape these last few days. Your body needs to recover.”

After a brief pause, Bonnie apparently decided against arguing with him and reluctantly sat down. She unwrapped the bagel and stared at the thing unpleasantly like it was made of worms and mud, wrinkling her nose a little. She forced down a bite or two, before she asked, “How bad was it?” in such a soft voice, Damon barely heard it.

Damon tore off a piece of his bagel. “Bad enough.”

“Caroline’s blood,” she stuttered out and they both looked up simultaneously. “Tell me I don’t have vampire blood in me, Damon.”

Damon made a face. “I could, but technically that’d be lying.” Bonnie’s face crumbled so he quickly added, “Hey, just don’t die with the next twelve hours, and all will be all right. Not dying – always a good plan.”

Bonnie shook her head. “You don’t understand.”

“If this is about what you saw in those dreams, forget it. It was just a nightmare, your mind screwing with you.”

Bonnie stared at him. “How do you know what I saw in my dreams?” _Shit._ Damon struggled to come up with an answer, when she swallowed thickly in understanding. Her eyes seemed haunted again. “That was you, wasn’t it? The real you, at the end?”

He thought furiously for a moment, but realized he had no way of denying it. “Your cousin needed help with the spell. I went in, a sorta foot-soldier.”

He left out what spell, and Bonnie was apparently still too out of it to question the details. She struggled for a response, and eventually ended up staring at him in this type of naked expression that shot right through him. Every emotion, every pain registered clearly on the surface of her face – not that Damon needed the help, with that bond of his.

 _Jesus, he was so screwed._

The urge to wipe away that look of vulnerability on her face was so strong, so overwhelming, Damon struggled to stay seated. He tried to find his footing again, anything to reestablish his equilibrium with her so that he didn’t rush across the room in some idiotic attempt to comfort her – an action that would likely have her throwing him back or lighting his ass on fire. Likely both.

“Thank your cousin,” Damon eventually broke the stalemate. “She pulled you out. I maybe helped a little, but if you feel the need to repay me in some act of kindness, know that I accept both cash and sexual favors—”

“Oh, gross,” she pulled back, a familiar spark of agitation. She glared at him, but there was that hint of amusement half-hidden in her eyes. “Does everything have to be crude with you?”

“It doesn’t _have_ to be, but it’s just more fun.”

“You are such a twelve-year-old boy.”

“What else is new?”

She rolled her eyes and went back to eating her bagel, but then stood up abruptly, tossing the bagel back onto the table. “C’mon, if I’m going to eat, I want something better.”

He raised an eyebrow, but was quick to follow her lead as she swiftly left the room. Downstairs, there was a small restaurant run by the B&B owners. They were an older couple, in their late sixties, and Damon felt the acute trickle of their scrutiny on the back of his neck as he walked Bonnie over to one of the corner tables. He always got a laugh whenever anyone claimed they were in a post-racial age, because here in parts of the South, it seemed like certain towns were at least four decades behind everywhere else. A bi-racial couple still raised alarms. It was a lot better than the days of his youth, but if you had to judge by the yardstick of slavery and the Civil War, it wasn’t exactly saying anything impressive.

Damon flashed a dark smirk at the owners, and without really thinking about it, pulled the chair out for Bonnie.

Bonnie was staring at him in surprise. “Thank you.”

“Just being a gentlemen.”

“That’s what’s freaking me out so much.”

Damon’s smirk only grew. She sat down and Damon tucked her seat in before taking his own in the opposite chair. He ordered extra bacon on top of _everything_ , enjoying the full liberties of a human appetite and snorted in amusement when Bonnie tossed him a disapproving look. The meal was quick, barely half an hour long, but at the end of it Bonnie made no move to leave the table. She was either oblivious to the judgmental stare of the owners, or she didn’t care. Damon normally would’ve bet on the latter, but in her current state he knew there were more than a few things slipping past her radar without notice.

Lucy was right. Bonnie would’ve gotten their asses handed to them if she tried to take on a duo as powerful as Bethany and Ethan in her current condition. She needed this day off. Maybe more, but Damon highly doubted they’d have that luxury.

One of the owners came by the table. “So, how is everything?” she asked, pleasantly enough. “Enjoying your stay? Sleep well?”

Damon closed a hand over Bonnie’s and flashed a smile. “Well,” he insisted, laying it on as thick as he could. “I don’t know about sleep, but we had an _enjoyable_ time. Why? Did we get complaints from the neighbors? She tends to be a little loud when fu—”

“Damon,” Bonnie snapped, snatching her hand back. She looked mortified, but not nearly as scandalized as the elderly woman standing over them. “Sorry. He’s an idiot. Don’t take anything he says at face value.”

The older woman nodded, tight-lipped, and left without a comment.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Bonnie demanded in a hiss.

“Just having some fun,” Damon answered, offering a shrug. “They’ve been staring at the white boy and colored girl all through breakfast, and I’d thought I’d finally give them something to talk about.”

Bonnie paused, eyes narrowing, then quietly snuck a glance at the elderly couple. They were whispering to one another in obvious gossip. Bonnie stared for a bit before she shook her head and rose. “Never mind,” she said, sounding disgruntled by the scrutiny brought to her attention. “Let’s just get out of here.”

She wasn’t as casual about the narrow-mindedness as she claimed, because after paying with a meager tip, they left, and she allowed him to guide her out the door with a hand at the small of her back. She even leaned in a little.

Outside, Damon slipped on some sunglasses and regarded Bonnie with an amused smile. “So, now what?”

She took a breath, bracing herself for something. “I think we should head back to Mystic Fa—”

“Not even if an innocent bystander’s life depended on it,” Damon cut in. “You are all screwy. You need rest. We are in a quaint town that, unlike our own, doesn’t seem to have that much supernatural crap going on. You’re going to rest, even if it kills you.”

“It’s not me that I’m worried about.”

“Well, I am,” Damon rebutted, and even her resulting look of dazed surprise wasn’t enough to derail him. “You don’t trust Lucy? Because she’s handling it.”

Her hackles rose. “It’s _my_ mother out there—”

“And you’ll get your swing at her,” Damon assured with a flash of his teeth, half-smile, half-predatory grin. “Until then, your options are sight-seeing or antique-window-shopping.”

“Why not just stab my eyes out and get it over with?”

“Another life, I might’ve taken you up on that offer, but lucky for you, I’m reformed.”

Bonnie crossed her arms over her chest. “So what do you suggest? We just hide out here while our friends are out there dealing with something way over their heads?”

“For the moment, yes. It’s called doing the smart thing.”

Bonnie stared at him, incredulous. “Since when have you _ever_ done the smart thing?”

* * *

“Oh god, no,” Bonnie muttered, not even attempting to hide her apprehension. “This? Right here? Another example of you never doing the smart thing.”

Damon revved the engine of the motorcycle, smirking. “C’mon, it was the only thing that I could buy. We could have rented a car, but this was just so much more _fun_. Besides, I’ve always wanted one.”

“So you just bought a Harley-Davidson like that? How much money do you have?”

“I’m old enough to be your great, great, great incredibly sexy great-uncle. You think I haven’t amassed a small fortune by now? Besides, you’ve seen my house, right? I was born into money, silver spoon and all.”

Bonnie stared at the offending vehicle. “Well, I don’t care. I am not hopping on that death-trap with you, no matter how expensive it is.”

“Don’t be such a fuddy-duddy.” He held up a helmet for her. “Look, I even got you your own helmet. Safety first!”

At least he avoided the insulting color of a pink helmet. Bonnie stared in irritation, then snagged the helmet with force and glared. Without much fanfare, she strapped on her helmet and climbed onto the back of his motorcycle, annoyed with herself more than him when her heart-rate sped up. The proximity triggered a flashback to their shared kiss, and Bonnie tried to deviate her wayward thoughts but the reality of wrapping her arms around Damon’s abdomen wasn’t exactly a hardship for a girl.

She tried to keep her voice stern. “No sharp turns or stupid tricks. Stay at the speed limit.”

She couldn’t see his face, but she knew Damon well enough to know his answering smirk would be a complete taunt.

* * *

Riding a motorcycle turned out to be more fun than Bonnie thought.

It wasn’t more than a few minutes before Damon got off and started giving Bonnie a few lessons on driving the bike, rather than just hanging on for dear life. She was ambivalent at first, but it turned out to be a little exhilarating, and more to the point, it kept her mind off the obsessive preoccupation of things outside her control back in Mystic Falls. She suspected that might’ve been Damon’s intentions all along, and it threw her a little that he was paying that much attention to her welfare that he was orchestrating ways for her to unwind.

She had a feeling he was feeling guilty about what happened to her because of resurrecting Stefan, but god forbid Damon Salvatore actually voiced those feelings. The world might implode.

Despite that, her mind was never strayed far from Lucy and the others. Still, she saw the benefit of a distraction. It helped to clear her head. She felt the sullied afterimages of her nightmare fade into the background as she focused on the instructional lessons that Damon was handing out. It helped to concentrate on something smaller, something tangible, rather than tackling the life-and-death issues that awaited her back home head-on. In her condition, it might’ve proved disastrous.

That, of course, didn’t mean the idea of leaving a dust-covered Damon behind as she rode back to Mystic Falls on his motorcycle never crossed her mind. She dutifully suppressed the urge to ditch him. And Bonnie wasn’t half-bad on a motorcycle, actually. She tended to be more comfortable speeding when she was driving than when Damon was, but she put that down to trusting the driver not to do anything too impetuous.

The best part of the day, however, was by far watching the moment when Damon rediscovered a little human annoyance called sunburn. It had been over a century and a half since he’d had to deal with the unpleasant side-effects of too much sun exposure, and apparently he’d forgotten some of the basics.

“This is why you’re supposed to wear sunscreen,” Bonnie teased, rather amused by the red splotch on his nose. “You look like Rudolf the red-nosed reindeer.”

Damon glared at her. “I didn’t see you put on any sunscreen.”

“Yeah, Damon, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m African American. Sunburn isn’t really high on my list of concerns.” She paused. “Though, you’re right, I should probably wear some to ward off skin cancer.”

He grunted in annoyance. “Christ, I’m going to have actually pay attention to cancer-warnings now.”

It wasn’t too long before Bonnie’s energy lagged, though. They were forced into quickly returning to the Bed and Breakfast when it felt to Bonnie like they’d barely left. She avoided thinking about the harsh reality of her strained stamina in favor of finally getting back on track. The few hours of motorcycle lessons had given her a release, but they needed to plan out their next course of action.

Their options were limited. She needed to find out her mother’s next move, and she needed to make sure Jeremy wasn’t causing any more mayhem. Both expeditions would require returning to Mystic Falls, but Damon wasn’t hearing it – and as much as it pained Bonnie to admit it, she knew he was right.

Sometime around three, there was a knock at the bedroom door. Damon crumbled some trash into a ball and tossed it into the waste bin, making his way towards the door.

To her surprise, Ben Wittiker was standing on the other side. “Bonnie?” he called out, seeming to ignore the pillar of Damon’s presence. He did this weird two-step with Damon where they both moved to block the same section of the doorway, and then he bypassed Damon from the left and slipped past the threshold. “Jesus, you’re alive.”

Bonnie was shocked to find him here, but didn’t stop him as Ben swept her up into a tight hug. The guy had a solid foot above her head and an additional one hundred pounds of pure muscle, and she felt tiny by comparison, engulfed in his arms.

“What are you doing here?” Bonnie asked, pulling back.

“There was a vision,” Ben answered, and Damon rolled his eyes.

“Of course there was,” Damon drawled. He stood back, settling against the wall with his arms crossed in front of his chest. “And instead of calling on the phone like a normal person, you – what? Hopped on your broom and flew down?”

Ben glared back at him. “I tried. It went to voicemail.”

Bonnie flushed. Due to an absent charger, Bonnie’s own cell phone was drained and she was forced to rely on Damon’s phone for contact with the outside world. And because she’d called up Lucy and once again gotten her cousin’s voicemail (Bonnie briefly wondered in annoyance if Lucy _ever_ answered her phone), she could heavily sympathize with Ben’s frustration.

Bonnie fixed a strand of hair, tucking it behind her ear. “I’m fine. I’m good. What did you see in your vision?”

Ben paused, quietly exchanging a look with Damon that spoke of a familiar annoyance at the presence of the other man. “Is there any place we can talk in private?” Ben asked her.

“Whatever you have to say to her,” Damon quipped, stepping forward and curling a possessive hand around Bonnie’s shoulders, “you can tell me. We’re the best of buds.”

Bonnie shrugged off his arm. “Damon, cut it out.”

Ben’s expression held a mixture of annoyance and fear, like he still didn’t know what to make of Damon. Ben had gotten it into his head that Damon was somehow tied to her death; goose bumps broke out across her forearm. The particular details of that premonition were still a little unclear, but one thing was for certain: she needed to keep any and all details of it from her friends for as long as she could manage.

Bonnie hesitated. “Actually, Damon, I want a word in private with Ben.”

She saw that remark land home. Damon’s face flickered with the sting of disloyalty before hardening into annoyance. “We don’t have time for this, Bonnie,” Damon told her, and sent a glare sideways towards Ben. “And keeping secrets isn’t going to help us any.”

“Damon, please,” she insisted. “I need to talk to him in private.”

Puffing out an air in irritation, he threw a dark look at her and then, reluctantly, left for the door. “Don’t take too long,” he warned. “My patience isn’t in a good mood right now.”

He left, and Ben stared after him. “That guy is all bad news. Tell me you see that?”

She expelled a breath. “What are you doing here, Ben?”

“There was a vision last night. In it, you were dead.”

The declaration should have lost some of its power after the number of times she’d heard it, but it still sent a chill up her spine every damn time. She settled heavily on the corner of her bed, and stared up at the hulking mass of Ben looming over her. He was big enough for a football player, but his quiet mannerisms and sharp intellect often led her to think of a giant teddy-bear analogy. The concern on his face was enough to settle the butterflies in her stomach.

“What did you see now?”

Ben shook his head. “I said there was a vision. I never said I was the one who had it.”

* * *

Ben lived in Bakersfield about two hours away. By the time they got there, the hospital staff barely let them through because visiting hours were nearly over. Ben managed to sweet-talk one of the nurses into allowing them to enter, laying on some BS that Bonnie and Damon were family too. Bonnie barely kept still, feeling a tension of worry and apprehension tie her stomach into knots. They finally walked into a sterile room to discover Matte, Ben’s younger sister, lying unconscious in the midst of half-a-dozen monitors and hospital equipment. She looked positively tiny.

“She’s comatose,” Ben explained in a choked whisper. “Same thing with Andrew and Davis, and Teresa’s parents called. Same illness. I don’t know what’s happening.”

“When did it start?”

“Last night. Same time. Around 10:30.”

The same time Bonnie had been pulled out of her dreams.

She’d figured it out like a light bulb was going off somewhere: the Coven was paying the consequences, the ones that Bonnie had shucked off. _The Spell of Undoing_. She was sure of it. Guilt robbed her of the ability to speak for a moment as she walked closer to Matte’s bedside. The other girl had suffered such horrific visions that it had sent her to the hospital, and now what lay in front of Bonnie was evidence that was purely damning. Bonnie had recovered from her nightmares, and now one by one, she suddenly knew, the others in the Coven would pay the price for it.

Consequences. A spell that powerful always had consequences. She’d been a fool to think she’d beaten them.

“We have to pull them out,” Bonnie breathed out, sickly. “They’re trapped in nightmares, and I’d bet my weight in gold that it’s the same type that went through my mind.”

Ben was the strongest in the Coven; he had the best abilities in magic, which probably explained why he hadn’t fallen sick yet.

“How did you pull out?” Ben asked.

“I had help.” Bonnie turned to Damon. “I never did ask, what spell did you and Lucy use to get me out?”

There was a steady beat of Matte’s heart-monitor that covered for the silence. Damon shifted his gait from one foot to another, then flashed her a look that Bonnie couldn’t, at first, decipher.

“Yeah,” he began, a little uneasily. He scratched behind an ear, as close to bashful as this former vampire could get, and tipped his head to the side. He nodded towards Ben, adopted a mocking tone that threw Ben’s earlier request back at him. “Is there any place we can talk in private?”

Damon being coy made her instinctively brace for the impact of something abrasive. She traded a brief look with Ben and then stepped out into the hallway with Damon, closing the door behind her. But Damon continued on, opening the steel door at the end of the hallway, waiting to let her pass first before he followed in her footsteps. There was a flight of stairs that led both upwards and down, and Damon rested his back against the railings and stared at her for a long beat.

“What?” Bonnie eventually asked, uncomfortable with the silence.

“I’m trying to debate how best to break this in a way that won’t end in my sudden demise.”

That was foreboding.

“Just tell me, Damon. We need to repeat the spell if we’re going to pull the others out—”

Damon laughed. “There won’t be any repeating of this spell.”

It was such a dry laugh, completely mirthless, and coupled with his sudden evasiveness, Bonnie felt like the walls were closing in on her. She had a sudden inkling of what he was about to tell her. A small epiphany, a connection of various dots. Her mind resisted the notion, though. Searching herself and then Damon for any outward sign, Bonnie felt her throat close off. _Could it be… was it possible that he used the – no, he wouldn’t have done that. He wouldn’t have risked that._ At the same time, she could sense that some internal debate was raging in Damon’s head, weighing some yet unnamed pros and cons.

She did nothing but watch him as he stood, tension mounting in her shoulders, convincing herself that it wasn’t possible.

Damon wouldn’t have reestablished the Lifebond.

“The lifebond,” Damon affirmed, instead. “I used it.”

Bonnie felt like the wind had been knocked clear out of her. Stepping back, she stared at Damon with a feeling she couldn’t even understand, much less explain, but she was overcome with confusion even though she’d guessed it – she’d _known_ on some level. A torrent of emotions swept through her, and though she’d done the same thing to him a few days back, Bonnie knew there was a difference. She quickly worked through the ramifications, entirely too aware of some of the pitfalls and catch-22s of his admission.

She stared at him in disbelief and, then again, in complete dawning, horrifying comprehension. “It’s permanent, isn’t it?”

He nodded.

“But,” she started, shaking her head, “I don’t feel—”

“You wouldn’t,” he cut in, shrugging a little in a gesture that was meant to be a _what are you gonna do?_ motion. She recognized his body language, completely tense – like the effort to appear nonchalant was straining enough to snap his body in half. “Lucy limited it to one side,” he explained.

Lucy was in on this?

She felt betrayed, and yet paradoxically grateful, and a dozen other warring emotions that she couldn’t even name. Her head spun with the ramifications. Her mind kept tripping over the same sentence over and over again like she kept stumbling over it in the dark. _Damon Salvatore was lifebonded to her – forever._ There would be no going back from a second connection. There would be no severing this bond, save for the ultimate death.

Wait. Bonnie caught on his last statement. _Limited to one side._ Did that mean… was it just Damon, then? She wrapped her arms around her waist, feeling chilled and rather numb.

“Why?” she could only ask, at last. Bewilderment coated her voice. “Why would you do that?”

Damon stared at her, face void of any expression, tightly controlled. “The same reason you first lifebonded with me.”

She shook her head. “No, no. That was different. I knew it would be temporary. I knew it would be…”

She trailed off, staring at him, and the enormity of what he’d done for her was just too much. She wondered what he felt – if he felt her churning emotions in that instant and a part of her felt violated, angry that he could read her now without her even realizing it. Another part of her was still too overwhelmed by the notion that Damon Salvatore had done the single most truly unselfish thing she had ever witnessed in her entire life. He’d done this, and there was no going back.

He’d done this, for _her._

“I—” she began. She needed to get out of there, clear her head. “I have to go.”

She took off without looking back at him. Through the hallway door, down the corridor, passed Matte’s room and to another series of passageways that seemed mazelike. Bonnie didn’t care. She just wanted away, out, far from Damon’s presence.

Outside, unbeknownst to her, a storm began to swell.

* * *

It took her a while to realize the storm was caused by the torrent of her emotions. Bonnie had never done that before. She’d never affected the weather by the mere force of her moods, and at another point in time, she might’ve marveled at the discovery of yet another aspect of her powers. In her current condition, though, it was nothing more than a mere observation.

“Bonnie?” a voice called.

Ben had discovered her, outside, legs dangling over the pavement of the onramp that connected the ER room to the area where Ambulances rolled in. The rain had drenched her, but Bonnie stared ahead, impassive to the cold when at any other time she would’ve hated feeling like a drowned rat. He settled into the seat beside her, tossing his own jacket over her shoulders and ignoring his own state of shivering.

“What’s going on?”

She didn’t really have an answer for him.

After a beat, Ben cleared his throat and stood up, then forced her to follow him by tugging on her arms. When she resisted, he threw her a look that made a silent promise: he’d throw her over his shoulders if she didn’t get up on her own. Reluctantly, the threat of that indignity finally cut through her haze and she followed him back through the sliding doors into the hospital.

Suddenly, in the bright florescent lights of the waiting room, Bonnie felt cold and silly, shivering in an oversized jacket and the pair of clothes that Damon had brought her earlier that morning. It was such a thoughtful gesture, him buying her clothes – she now wondered at the motivation behind it.

Nothing would be the same now. She tried to wrap her mind around it, convince herself she was overreacting, but a part of her was still too numb to deny the revelation. A lifebond – a permanent one – held a gravity to it that Bonnie couldn’t even fully comprehend. She just knew it was… big. And overwhelming. And scary as hell.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Ben said, “but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out it’s bad.”

“I don’t know what this is,” Bonnie returned, sullenly, and that was exactly the problem. She was so confused and thrown by this turn of events, and it wasn’t like her life wasn’t already complicated enough. She licked some drops of rain off her lips, and continued, “I won’t be able to help your sister, Ben. Not in the way that I thought I could—” she stopped, then started all over again. “I’ll figure it out, though. I’ll find a way to save them.”

Ben stared at her, a little too much sympathy in his eyes. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

 _You could probably ask Damon_ , a childish part of her wanted to say.

She flinched against the idea that Damon was picking up her messy emotions, or even a stray thought or two. Such an invasion of her privacy – it was like something was crawling along her skin. She didn’t want this. She never wanted this. Lifebonding with Damon had been a temporary thing, a quick fix to a fatal incident. It wasn’t supposed to be forever. Why would he have risked that? She still couldn’t figure it out.

She shrugged off Ben’s jacket and handed it back to him. “I need to leave,” she told him. “I can’t help your sister like this.”

“Back to Mystic Falls, then?” a voice called out from behind.

She turned around, and wasn’t remotely surprised to find Damon there, waiting at the end of the long corridor, studying her.

Mystic Falls. Yes.

She hadn’t even realized that had been her intentions until it seemed suddenly glaringly obvious that there was no other recourse for her to take. She had to get back to the source of her problems – her mother. Find the witch and deal with her. Maybe her mother would know how to undo the consequences that had befallen the Coven? If Bethany knew, then Bonnie would get the answers any way she could. Bonnie was done reacting defensively. It was time she started to take action.

Damon walked forward with his hands jammed in his pockets, and he hid it well, but Bonnie could see right through the façade – he was hesitant, unsure of his footing with her anymore. Bonnie knew the feeling. It was like their relationship was suddenly redefined from the foundation up, and she wasn’t sure of anything anymore. She never realized how weird and indefinable her relationship with Damon was until she once tried to define it to a friend, years back. Now the tangled mess of this lifebond had made it nigh impossible.

Ben cleared his throat, breaking some sort of staring contest that Bonnie hadn’t even realized she’d been engaged in with Damon. “I’m coming with,” Ben said. “If Mystic Falls holds the answer, then that’s where I need to be.”

It was a sad thing, but Bonnie’s immediate thought leapt to the fact that if Ben went along, she wouldn’t have to ride back to Mystic Falls alone with Damon, on the back of his Harley-Davidson. Logical, more rational reasons trickled out after: Ben would make a good warlock ally against Bethany and Ethan. Plus, his sister was on the line, and he would probably be soon to follow after in suffering the consequences of the _Spell of Undoing_. Denying him this would probably be a futile effort, even if Bonnie disliked the idea of putting him on the direct path to a collision. There would likely be no one more strongly motivated to end this than Ben, though.

No one but Bonnie, of course.

* * *

It was a full moon.

Bonnie hadn’t remembered that fact until she was at the front steps of the Salvatore Boarding House and realized that Tyler wouldn’t be there. Ben walked up beside her, and she was acutely aware of the sound of the motorcycle engine cutting off when Damon climbed off his ride. She’d been acutely aware of him throughout the entire ride home, watching him through the side-view mirrors as he trailed Ben’s car.

Bonnie refocused, waiting impatiently for someone to answer the doorbell. She looked towards the horizon as some clouds half-covered the full moon. She thought about what Tyler was going through tonight, and how the abandoned cellar of the Lockwood Estate ran through the eastern woods about a dozen miles from where she stood. What would it be like to lose control like that? Bonnie shuddered over her musings, thinking about the all-too-real fear of becoming a vampire – then realized with a start that she didn’t have to, anymore. She glanced down at her watch and did the math – enough time had passed since Caroline had fed Bonnie her blood.

There was no more vampire blood remaining in her system.

Bonnie wasn’t in danger of becoming a vampire, anymore.

The dizzying realization that her nightmares were just that – nightmares, and nothing more – made her head spin. Relief tore through her, but she didn’t have long to linger on the thought as the door finally opened. Caroline was standing in the doorway, and let out a squealish delight so high Bonnie thought dogs could hear it.

“Thank god you’re okay!” Caroline exclaimed.

Bonnie found herself enveloped into a hug so tight that it reminded Bonnie that, yes, Caroline had vampire strength – even if Caroline herself sometimes forgot the force of it. The hug was choking, and Bonnie let out a strangled protest. Caroline went _oh_ , and abruptly released her.

Bonnie became distinctly aware that Damon was watching from the sidelines as Elena came out. A sudden thought was given to how his lifebond with Bonnie would affect the nigh-indestructible obsession he had on Elena, when the girl in question jumped Bonnie in a hug that rivaled Caroline’s. And then Caroline decided to rejoin, and the entire thing turned into this blathering, jumping, hysterical group hug that left Bonnie in near tears.

God, she never realized how much she missed these two, how much _better_ they could make her feel, instantly, until it was so obvious it could smack her upside the head. Her mood improved at once, and the questions that had plagued her since reawakening from her coma had finally receded into some dark corner of her mind, temporarily banished.

When Bonnie pulled back, her eyes were immediately drawn to the figure in the back: Stefan. He was leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, amused at the girlish antics unfolding in front of him. Bonnie couldn’t help the grand smile that spread across her lips, marveling at the proof of her spell, of her magic: Stefan was alive and whole. He pushed off the frame and approached Bonnie a little sheepishly, like he didn’t know what to say.

“Bonnie,” Stefan began, pulling her into a tight hug. “Thank—”

“You’re welcome,” she cut in, before he could even finish. She squeezed him once and pulled back, because she sympathized. She doubted they made greeting cards for the occasions when your witchy friends brought you back to life. “Just don’t make a habit of it.”

Elena pinned her boyfriend a warning look. “Oh, trust me, he’s not going to be doing that again anytime soon.”

Ben cleared his throat, and Bonnie threw him a sheepish smile. “Sorry. Forgot about introductions. Ben, these are my friends. Elena, Caroline and—”

“You already met the corpse of Stefan,” Damon cut in, snidely.

He slid past everyone blocking the doorway so he could enter his house. Ben offered an awkward wave, and the group filed in. Damon had walked passed the foyer, chucking off his leather jacket and throwing it across the staircase banister.

“Where’s Alaric?” Damon demanded, and he seemed in a pissy mood. Bonnie pretended not to know why.

“He’s guarding Tyler during the change,” Elena answered him.

Bonnie turned to her. “And Lucy?”

“Out,” Elena replied, less helpfully with a shrug. “She’s been trying to track Jeremy.”

“By herself?” Damon asked, incredulous.

Bonnie sighed, knowingly and with a little frustration. “She prefers to work alone like that.”

Discomfort and anxiety swept through her. A plan started to formulate in her head: Bonnie needed to meet up with Lucy – and there was probably going to be a few heated words exchanged. The lifebond. Bonnie still couldn’t believe her cousin had gone along with it, though she shouldn’t have really been surprised. Lucy was always the type to dive right into the thick of it, paying attention to consequences only after the fact.

Ben was studying her. “What exactly is the plan when you find this vampire? Bonnie, tell me you’re not going to try the _Spell of Undoing_ again to reverse his curse. I know that had been the plan at some point.”

Bonnie flinched, unable to voice her answer. Her eyes found Elena, and god, how was supposed to take away the hope of a normal Jeremy? Elena had lost enough in her life, but Bonnie couldn’t honestly see how they could attempt the _Spell of Undoing_ again, not after seeing the consequences wrought on so many innocent bystanders.

Thankfully, Elena had already come to some sort of understanding. She squared her jaw and nodded. “I know it can’t be done, Bonnie,” she breathed, a little brokenly. “You can’t take the risk. I know that. But I still believe there’s a good man in there. The Jeremy I know is still in him, and I won’t give up on that.”

Bonnie released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in; the idea of breaking that news to Elena had temporarily left Bonnie paralyzed and nauseous. Bonnie didn’t hold out much hope for a vampire Jeremy who saw the errors of his way, but she couldn’t take that hope away from Elena.

From the side, Caroline stifled a groan. “It was a nice dream while it lasted, and I won’t lie, I _really_ wanted to see if you could turn me into a real girl too. But I guess there are worse things in the world than being a hot vampire with super strength and eternal youth.”

Bonnie would’ve laughed, but she saw through Caroline’s front. Offering a smile, Bonnie felt a surge of sympathy with the hurt that Caroline was trying to cover up. “I’m sorry, Caroline,” Bonnie told her. “I really am.”

Caroline shrugged, a little miserably. “C'est la vie.” She forced more cheer into her voice, “And, anyway, I’ve got a hot werewolf husband, so maybe it’s good I stay a supernatural freak. Wouldn’t want there to be an unbalanced—”

The sound of a door slamming shut in the distance broke Caroline’s momentum, and everybody glanced around. Bonnie realized that at some point Damon had stormed off from the group and the sound of his door slamming shut was a rude awakening that reminded Bonnie of their predicament.

She couldn’t deal with that now. It was weird, but the revelation of the lifebond had, in many ways, revitalized her commitment to dealing with all her _other_ problems, if only as a source of distraction. She didn’t know how to handle Damon, but she knew now what she had to do with the rest of her problems – and that was confront them, one-by-one. Her previous qualms were washed away in the turmoil of her churning emotions, and Bonnie steeled herself for a fight, almost eager for it.

First, she’d deal with Jeremy. Capturing was ideal, but Bonnie was acutely aware that practicality might necessitate violent means. Then, she’d talk with her mother, and if that didn’t go well, she had resolved herself to figuring out a way to siphon Bethany’s powers so her mother couldn’t do anymore magic.

One thing at a time, and maybe, just maybe, they’d all make it out of this alive.

* * *


	11. Chapter 11

It was just after midnight when Bonnie was finally ready to leave the house again, fairly itchy to get out. They had each taken the time to shower and change clothes, though Bonnie's mind was still so preoccupied that she didn’t really realize how much time had passed. She would have been perfectly content to storm right out of the Boarding House without stopping to rest, but Ben was starting to get a little tired and she slowed down more for his sake than her own. Her hair was still slightly damp, but she pulled it back into a sloppy ponytail that would dry into natural waves at the ends. Damon had apparently picked up a sense of self-preservation somewhere on the ride back, as he hadn’t said more than two words to her since getting home, though there was a glitter in his eyes that made Bonnie think he was fuming over a few issues of his own. As she recalled, he didn't handle being ignored very well. 

But she couldn’t handle talking to him, just yet. He’d stormed off into the recesses of his bedroom and hadn’t yet emerged. And because her temporary room was across from his bedroom, she'd been in the position to eavesdrop on a rather terse conversation he’d had with Stefan about an hour ago when the younger Salvatore brother had swung by. She hadn’t gotten the details, but she got the gist of it and Damon was choosing to act out by acting like an ass. 

Both of them were acting a bit childish, she knew – but of the two of them, at least she could boast that she wasn’t the elder by a 147 years. Bonnie could afford to be childish under the circumstances. She needed time and distance to put things into perspective. Given that she’d had a series of life-altering bombshells dropped on her lap in consecutive order the last few days, she didn’t think she was being all that unreasonable.

She shrugged on her jacket and left the guestroom, hoping to make a quick getaway when a voice shot out to stop her. When she turned, Damon was leaning back against one of the staircase's support beams, arms folded over his chest, eyes heavy-lidded. He had a smirk fixed rigidly in place. Bonnie immediately braced herself.

“So,” he mused, affecting a dry tone that would have seemed normal at any other time. “Where are you heading?”

She paused. “Ben and I are going to meet up with Lucy,” she told him, trying not to let herself become flustered under his gaze. She relaxed her arms at her sides, only with force, and couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “Just got a message from her. She’s in the woods near the Lockwood Estate.”

Damon nodded with casual disinterest, like she was boring him with details he only asked about out of politeness. She knew why, of course. Barriers had been put up. The elephant in the room was not only present and accounted for, but it had decided to up the ante by wearing a pink fucking tutu. 

“You know,” he said, “we’re going to have to have a conversation about us at some—”

“Damon—”

“You can’t ignore me forever.”

She flushed and looked away, knowing he was right but she couldn’t deal, not yet. “I’m not ignoring you.”

A derisive snort escaped. “You’re not?”

She flinched, before forcing herself to return his gaze. She wondered what was going through his head; if the suppressed hostility she could feel radiating off him was just as much of a cover as she suspected. She’d hurt him, and that hadn’t been her intention. Hell, the revelation that she  _could_ even hurt him this way was still tripping her up a little. 

“I’m processing,” she insisted, pleading with him to understand. “Look, Damon. This is a lot. I know…” she trailed off, afraid someone else would overhear. She forced herself to step further down the hallway towards him. The corridor suddenly seemed very small and intimate with just the two of them, and even though downstairs the lights were still on and everybody was moving around throughout the mansion, full of life and animation, it suddenly felt to Bonnie like they were the only two people left. “You can’t expect me to just go on like nothing has changed. This changes a lot. This changes everything.”

He rolled his eyes dramatically. “It doesn’t change  _everything_. You’re still you. I’m still me. The world is still turning and this town is still a hotbed for supernatural shenanigans. If you’d open your eyes a little, you’d realize almost  _nothing_  has changed.”

“ _We’ve_  changed,” Bonnie challenged, fiercely, because she was not making this up in her head. 

Damon gave her a probing look, stalking forward in three long strides, and her legs felt too weighted down by her convictions to take equal measures back. “We were changing without the lifebond ever being a factor,” he declared, in what felt like the space of a hairsbreadth away from her. The intensity of his eyes should have left her staggering back. “Don’t lie to yourself about that, Bonnie.”

There was a heavy pause, where Damon’s eyes were giving away too much emotion she didn’t want to define, but couldn’t help but dissect. It was imploring and slightly desperate, and Bonnie felt herself falling a little under its thrall, heeding his words with a spark of acknowledgement. Their dynamics had started shifting  _before_  the lifebond, ever since she’d come back into town. What had happened since and in between, she couldn’t tell for certain if it was  _all_  the lifebond’s fault or something else. A momentum that had just picked up speed.

It freaked her out to admit that, even to herself. 

“I need time,” she insisted, almost in a whisper. 

The desperate plea managed to break some of Damon’s oncoming momentum, and she breathed easier when he eased off some of the intensity and stepped away. His shoulders were unyielding and rigid, all hard and angry lines, and Damon kept his back to her for a few long seconds as he seemed to get himself under control.

There was a beat of silence, and then Bonnie offered, “Thank you. For what you did. I never actually said that to you, did I?”

Damon forced a shrug.

“Thank you,” she persisted, starting to step forward again, then stopped. She clenched her hands into fists and reminded herself to maintain some distance. She needed to clear her head. They both did. “Seriously, Damon. You saved my life. I know how much that must have cost you.”

He looked back at her, and Bonnie had to remind herself to exhale. “We seem to be getting into the habit of saving each other’s lives. Didn’t want to fumble the ball.”

She was saved from a response by the sudden arrival of Stefan up the staircase. He halted slowly at the top of the steps, and looked to both of them. “Am I interrupting?”

The question was perfunctory, she realized. Damn vampire hearing.

Damon whirled away in annoyance, throwing his hands up in a gesture of exasperation that would have been amusing at any other point in time. Stefan just latched onto Bonnie with this pained and knowing expression, and she wondered just how much of the conversation he’d managed to overhear. A second later, she recognized that his timely arrival was an orchestrated move to give her the reprieve she’d been desperately asking of Damon all along. Gratitude rushed through her veins. She’d seen Damon intense before, but she’d never been on the receiving end of it like this. She didn’t know how to handle it.

“I can come back?” Stefan offered into the void, looking guileless in an expression that could only have been mastered over decades.

Damon stared at his brother and flashed a mean-spirited smirk. “No, no, please,” he quipped. “Stay. I was just leaving.”

He stalked off without waiting for a response.

Left in the wake of his departure, Bonnie and Stefan stared at each other and she attempted not to fidget, well aware that a secret had been spilled loose. She hadn’t even realized how much had happened outside of the presence of the others until that moment. She imagined Stefan would’ve been confused at finding the scene before him, at how much Damon and her were acting different towards each other – but Stefan seemed more considering than anything else, like a piece of the puzzle had just slid into place.

Sometimes she loved her friend’s empathetic tendencies and sometimes she found it a little thick. She wasn’t quite as sure which occasion this instance was, but after a beat she crossed her arms around her waist and offered a timid smile to Stefan, knowing it was a little strained.

“Don’t say anything to the others,” she whispered in a plea.

Stefan nodded quickly, and Bonnie exhaled out. 

She didn’t know how to explain the sudden evolution of her relationship with Damon to  _herself_ , much less to anyone else. Caroline would flip out and Elena – god, Bonnie’s eyes closed in mortification. How the hell was she supposed to explain this to Elena? The other woman had never warmed to Damon’s advances, but it was still a tightly packed ball of issues that was as explosive as C4. Bonnie had never really touched it before, and now she was squarely in the middle of it.

Why was Damon looking at Bonnie like  _that_ , when Elena was downstairs less than forty feet away, anyway?

Stefan placed a hand on her forearm, giving it a squeeze in comfort. “I’m here if you need to talk.”

Bonnie shook her head. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”

If she said it enough, maybe it would even come true?

* * *

“So, this is Mystic Falls, eh?” Ben mused. “This place… it reeks of power. Not the good kind. It’s kinda freaking me out.”

Bonnie was still a little jittery after her conversation with Damon, but she tried to put it out of her head and focus on what was ahead. She acknowledged Ben’s comment with a small nod, and it was strange, but she found that having Ben here in Mystic Falls was just as disorienting to Bonnie as he was finding it. The car dipped a little as she drove past the Lockwood Estate and onto the dirt roads, and she mused that if she’d heard even half the rumors and stories that surrounded the legend of Mystic Falls, then its reputation put it one step above hell. When they’d met, Ben had been this unassuming burgeoning warlock who’d put those rumors down to wild speculation; Bonnie had been the one to open his eyes and tell him, more often than not, truth was stranger than fiction when it came to her hometown.

Being with Ben here made her think about all the ways she’d changed in the last six years since leaving this place, and in certain instances, how much she hadn’t changed at all. Her life had always been neatly separated into two hemispheres, before and after. Mystic Falls and the rest of the world. Before, was her youth and all the trials that went with it. After, was her life in college and grad school, studying the supernatural phenomena so that she could follow in her Gram’s footsteps and become a professor in the Paranormal Occult. She’d discovered others like her along the way, others like Ben. He was part of something that had nothing to do this town, this place – and she’d kinda liked that. Ben and the other Coven members weren’t sullied by the darkness of this place.

Except, now, her worlds were colliding. Bonnie didn’t like that. She didn’t like it a bit.

“This place changes you,” Ben observed, glancing over at her. “You’re different here.”

“Different?”

“I don’t know – more focused? More intense? I don’t think I’ve seen you crack a smile in the last few hours.”

“There’s really not much to smile about, Ben,” she returned, but a part of her knew what he was talking about. “I’m sorry. I know you’re going through a lot yourself—”

“I’m fine,” he insisted, “I just wish I had a better handle on things. But whatever is going down in this town, I know we can handle it together.”

She smiled over at him, touched and genuinely, deeply terrified that she was leading this earnest guy into a pit of wolves. He had no clue, did he? He’d never been in this type of madness, and Ben was powerful, but still a little naïve. In college, she’d found it endearing – now it was a liability. A sudden doubt festered, and she wasn’t as sure about his presence as she had been before.

He was right: this place  _did_  change her, because she didn’t see things the same way as she did when she was outside of Mystic Falls. In college, she would laugh and smile and even let loose. Ben knew that girl. Ben  _liked_  that girl. It didn’t matter how many years he’d known her, because suddenly Bonnie realized he didn’t really know her at all because the real Bonnie was the one that showed no vulnerability, demonstrated no ambivalence. She shouldered responsibility like she was born into it, and that other girl? The one in college? That girl was just someone Bonnie became when she was on a proverbial vacation or something. 

She didn’t want anybody else following in her footsteps.

“Ben,” she said, quietly. “I’m not sure this is the place for you. Your sister needs you, and you might want to think about heading back—”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Ben asked sharply, incredulous. “Bonnie, no. I’m staying. This fight is mine now, too.”

“You could get killed—”

“Says the girl with the death sentence hanging over her head,” Ben tossed back, and Bonnie flinched. “I don’t know how you got this way, but Bonnie, you’re not Joan of Arc. This town isn’t your personal crusade. Others can help. Others can help you fight. You just gotta learn to let outsiders in.” 

That was easier said than done. Her self-exile of six years had ended at some point, without her even really realizing it. Now she was back. Everything else just seemed to fade away like it was an inconsequential break from reality. Mystic Falls was where she belonged, where she was _needed_ , but she didn’t want Ben following her into the madness. Outsiders didn’t have a high survival rate in this town. A person had to be born into it to figure out how it worked. She didn’t expect Ben to understand that, though. 

They were the only a few people remaining in the entire world that would understand where Bonnie was coming from: Elena, Stefan, Caroline, Tyler and… 

Damon Salvatore.

“You can trust me,” Ben said, cutting into her thoughts with a small smile. “I know how to take care of myself.”

There was no option but to nod, making the effort to accept his help. With a cool exhale, she pulled the car to the side of the dirt road and shifted into parking. She threw a searching look at the dense foliage, judging the distance it would take to reach the crypt of Tyler’s imprisonment. In the distance, about twenty yards away, Alaric’s car was sitting idly.

“This is the place,” she told Ben.

He got out of the car. “This is where Lucy is?”

“And Alaric and Tyler.”

“The werewolf?” he asked. “What is your cousin doing around a werewolf’s hideout on a full moon?”

Bonnie joined him on a patch of grass and looked up at the sky. The moon hung heavy and looming, and she felt a trickle of foreboding chill work up her spine. “We have to ask her that.”

She quietly studied the dark roads ahead of her, winding through the trees. Lucy had phoned and told Bonnie to meet her here, but God, why was it always the woods? The woods made Bonnie think of that night Emily had possessed her, and Damon had attacked her, and she’d found out about the things that went bump in the night. The woods made her think of the ruins of Fell’s Church, that tomb that had killed her Grams. 

The woods also made her think of kissing Damon, pressed against a tree, bark digging into her backside and how she’d hadn’t cared – hadn’t cared about anything except Damon and feeling more of his touch.

She dropped her gaze for a second, and refocused. 

“Lucy!” she called out. “Alaric?”

There was a rustle of movement in the distance, and then an outline of a figure appeared from behind some trees. Lucy was dressed in skinny jeans and a blank tank top, hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. Her favorite dusty shoulder bag was thrown over one side, and in her hands was a familiar heirloom, the Gilbert pocket-watch that served dually as a supernatural compass. Bonnie recognized it instantly.

“He’s around here somewhere,” Lucy told her, without even a hello.

“Who is?”

“Your ex-boyfriend,” Lucy answered. “Jeremy’s somewhere out in these woods.”

Bonnie looked around, alarmed, but Ben was confused. “How do you know?”

“This compass tracks the whereabouts of vampires,” Bonnie explained, then made quick introductions. “Ben, this is my cousin Lucy. Lucy, this is Ben.”

Lucy glanced at Ben, from head to foot and then back again. Ben was easy on the eyes, and muscular, and Bonnie almost laughed when Ben flushed a little in embarrassment. He never knew what to do when girls checked him out, and Lucy had a way of making any man feel like a schoolboy if she wanted.

“You sure this isn’t tracking Tyler as a werewolf?” Bonnie asked curiously, getting them back on track. “Sometimes spells confuse werewolves and vampires.”

Lucy shook her head, dropping her bag onto the dirt so that she could remove a wooden stake. “The needle isn’t pointing in Tyler’s direction. Of course, I only know it’s a vamp out here. Might not be Jeremy. Might by some other bloodsucker.”

“Pity for them,” Bonnie mused quietly to herself. She looked to Lucy. “Where’s Alaric?”

“In the cellar, holding down the fort with a shotgun,” Lucy answered with some appreciation. She grinned. “My kind of guy.”

“Your kind of guy has only one prerequisite,” Bonnie tossed back. “Looks.”

“Is it my fault that you know an overabundance of hot guys? What do you do? Collect them?”

By this time, Ben was as bright red as a beet.

Bonnie shook off the conversation and began formulating the game plan. She had no idea why Jeremy was haunting these woods, especially on a full moon. He’d know better than to mess with a werewolf, seeing as a single bite was one of the few ways to end vampires. What was he doing here? Bonnie refused to underestimate him. He’d become a complete bastard as a vampire, but he wasn’t stupid or foolish. There had to be reason for this. 

Bonnie said, “Let’s check out the cellar—”

“No,” Ben cut in, harshly. He looked awkwardly to Lucy, and dropped his voice into a conspiratorial whisper so that only Bonnie could hear. “You remember my vision, right? It was you in a dungeon or a cellar of some type –  _dead_. Let’s just try to avoid that combination, all right?”

She swallowed thickly, and nodded. “Fine. You remember Alaric, right? Go join him in the cellar. Keep a guard on the werewolf. Lucy and I will hunt for Jeremy out here.”

Ben slowly nodded and took off for the cellar doors. A second of silence settled in, almost eerie, and Bonnie glanced around and wondered if Jeremy was watching her from the shadows or behind a tree branch, or something. A shudder went through her.

“C’mon,” Lucy motioned. “Let’s teach this vampire that it’s never a good idea to mess with a pair of Bennett witches.”

* * *

The lack of sleep was starting to get to Damon. He knew he should rest while he could, but his agitation at the way his day had unfolded made him jittery and wired. It was close to 3 am when he gave up pretending to sleep and got dressed again. The full moon cast its glow outside the windows. As he slipped on his jacket and bounded down the stairs, he discovered he wasn’t the only one up. Caroline and Elena were still in the library, researching something, and Stefan was in the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of blood. 

After a beat, he figured he’d have to have a conversation with his nosy little brother eventually, and deviated towards the kitchen. He walked in on his brother gulping down the last bit of his glass. A trickle of blood fell down his lip, and Stefan wiped away at it. The blood had apparently been heated in the microwave because the smell of it was pungent in the air. Damon nearly gagged, and it was so  _surreal_ , feeling nausea swell up at the smell of something that had driven him insane with thirst for so many decades. Damon wondered how he’d never really noticed how gross it could be, before – not even when he’d been human in 1864, and Katherine had encouraged him into drinking it through the powers of her seduction. God, he’d been such a fool.

Correction. Remembering Bonnie, Damon realized he was  _still_  a fool. Somewhere, some deity had an overdeveloped sense of cruelty. Damon was sure of it.

Damon walked around him and opened the fridge, rooting around for something appetizing to eat. Silence settled in, the pregnant kind, before Damon turned around again and found Stefan studying him.

“What?” Damon asked, like he didn’t already know.

“Wondering if it’s worth it to start a conversation,” Stefan returned. “You still in a mood?”

Damon glared. “Stefan, I’m  _always_  in a mood.”

Stefan leaned back against the kitchen countertop, regarding his older brother with a look of searching curiosity as Damon began preparing himself a quick sandwich. Damon unscrewed the lid of mayonnaise and spread a liberal dose of it across a slice of bread, then licked a dab off his thumb.

“Say it, whatever it is,” Damon ordered, a little warily. “We both know you won’t hold it in.”

“What’s going on with you and Bonnie?”

Damon rolled his eyes, but internally, he was a little irritated that he was this see-through about the situation with Bonnie. Stefan had the uncanny ability to read him like no other, but it was still an annoyance that he’d walked in on the conversation Damon was having with her. In fact, Damon was still a little pissed off that Stefan had interrupted what was obviously a private moment – and what was Stefan’s problem anyway? It wasn’t like Damon was hitting on his girlfriend. For once.

“Just admit it,” Stefan said. “Save both of us the lies – and ones neither one of us would believe at this point anyway.”

“I don’t have the faintest clue what you’re talking about,” Damon mocked.

“Oh c’mon, Damon,” Stefan said, turning a little exasperated. “I know exactly what you’re like when you’re into a girl, having been in the unfortunate position to see you obsessing over Elena for the last eight years, and Katherine for the 140 before that.”

“It isn’t like that,” Damon insisted.

“So that conversation I walked in on earlier was just a hallucination? Your mood swings, the concern for her welfare, the fact that your eyes follow Bonnie whenever she’s in the same room?” Stefan listed off, shrugging, “That’s just my imagination?”

“ _Hopeful_  imagination,” Damon goaded, suddenly incensed. He didn’t need his brother tossing all his pathetic behavior back into his face; Stefan, who never had to know what it felt like to have the girl you wanted never want you back. “You’d just love it if I were over Elena, wouldn’t you?”

There was a pregnant pause. “Yes,” Stefan admitted softly. “I would.”

The two brothers stared off at each other, side-to-side, and a pillar of history stood between them. It was insane how many times he’d had this conversation with Stefan – about Elena, about Katherine. A twisted and tired triangle that Damon could never win, and he was fucking exhausted of that. Christ, it was the tale of his life, the tragic love story in which he was overshadowed by the good Salvatore brother. Damon was so over it. So _entirely_  over it. At least with Bonnie he wouldn’t have to deal with being upstaged by his brother – or so Damon hoped, anyway. With his luck, Bonnie would be desperately in love with Stefan by the end of next week.

“What’s going on?” a voice called out. Elena.

Damon groaned, turning to find that his argument with Stefan had drawn the attention of the girls. Elena and Caroline stood in the doorway, wearing matching looks of curiosity, and no way – no fucking way – was Damon having this or any other similar conversation with them. 

Stefan gestured a little. “Nothing,” he said, mercifully quiet. “Just having a few words.”

Damon stormed off, past the girls and up the staircase. Agitation warred inside him, and he felt like the butt-end of a joke.  _Damn-it fucking hell._  This was Bonnie’s fault; she’d interrupted his natural order in the world and thrown him into a whirlwind all over again, just when he’d finally started to come to terms with his lot in life. Life with Stefan-and-Elena had faded into this bearable form of torment and family affection, and he’d just gotten used to that after nearly a decade of purgatory. But Bonnie had to come along, stirring up all these confusing feelings – loyalty, friendship, a fever of excitement and solidarity, and the thick haze of passion. Passion was the type that burned the bloodiest. 

Halfway to his room, he stopped. He halted at the top of the grand staircase, warring with his instincts. He finally reversed course and began heading down towards the garage where his brand new Harley-Davidson was waiting. 

Bonnie might’ve wanted to distance herself from him. She might’ve wanted to gain perspective and figure things out. It apparently hadn’t mattered that the resulting cold-front had left Damon feeling frustrated and even more confused. It seemed that his feelings didn’t factor in at all. Well, fuck that. He knew he was being a little insensitive but he was getting really sick and tired of being a trivial concern. A footnote in other people’s diary.

Hopping onto the bike, he revved the engine and slid on his helmet. The garage door opened and Damon took off, headed for the woods encompassing the Lockwood Estate.

It was time he forced the issue with Bonnie, whether she liked it or not.

* * *

It was getting frustrating as Bonnie and Lucy circled around the same patch of wilderness for the umpteenth time. Two hours of this and she was getting tired. The needle on the Gilbert compass was whirling like crazy, and Bonnie figured the vampire was in constant motion, zigzagging through the trees like it was on PCP. How long could a vamp keep that up? They didn’t even know how far away he was – it could have been feet or miles. She’d rather it held still for a second so she could just pinpoint it and deal accordingly, but her prey apparently wasn’t in an obliging mood. She even tried to reach out with her senses and track Jeremy, but much to her confusion and frustration, she kept getting mixed signals.

“So,” Lucy struck up the conversation, twirling the stake in one hand. “How goes Damon?”

If her cousin had intended on being annoyingly distracting while they were hunting a dangerous vampire, she couldn’t have picked a better topic. “Not now,” Bonnie warned. “But don’t think there aren’t a few choice words coming your way. I can’t  _believe_  you actually—” she slammed her mouth shut, bracing herself with a sigh. “Never mind. Not now.”

Something about her mood must’ve carried over anyway, because Lucy was rocking back. “So I take it Damon finally came clean on what happened?” Bonnie glowered. Lucy said it like it was as trivial as him spilling red wine on her favorite couch. “How bad was the explosion?”

“You shouldn’t have let him go through with it. It’s… made things incredibly complicated and messy.”

“You were being driven insane,” Lucy threw back, tartly. “Our options were limited.”

Bonnie hesitated. A part of her knew better than to engage in this conversation when they had more important things to pay attention to, but another part of her was just so  _desperate_  to talk about Damon and this whole lifebond confusion with someone else – and Elena and Caroline were out of the question, as were any of the guys. This was obviously girltalk territory. Lucy already knew most of the messy details, and though her cousin’s idea of a relationship was a one-night stand that had extended to a long weekend, Lucy had always been a good listener and she never judged. Bonnie found she was in desperate need of that in this moment.

“He’s acting differently,” Bonnie admitted softly, “and this is changing things too much.”

Lucy paused, studying her. “What happened between you two? Did you sleep with him already?”

“What?” The question threw Bonnie so much that she whirled on Lucy. “No! Why would you think that? And what do you mean  _already_? We just… we’ve only—” Bonnie cut herself off, but there was blood in the water now and her cousin smelled it.

“You just  _what_?” Lucy asked with a raised eyebrow.

Glowering, Bonnie turned away and admitted in a terse voice, “Kissed, for your information, and that was under the influence of the lifebond. You see what I mean about complicated?”

“That’s it? A kiss?” her cousin’s voice was incredulous. “Why are you getting your panties in a twist about that?”

Sometimes it felt like they didn’t even speak the same language. “Because a few weeks ago, the most contact I had with the guy was through text messaging. It’s now a little more convoluted.”

Lucy snorted. “No shit.”

Bonnie studied the spinning needle of the compass for a second, knowing she shouldn’t engage further and yet unable to help herself. “Look, for one, you know about Elena, right?”

Lucy rolled her eyes, removing a carton of cigarettes from her back pocket. She pulled one loose with her teeth, while rooting one-handed through her bag for the matches. “Sweetheart, everybody who’s ever heard of the Salvatore brothers or known Katherine knows about Elena.”

“He’s in love with her. For as long as I’ve known Damon, he’s only had one thing on his mind and that’s Elena.”

Lucy struck a match and lit the cigarette. “His attention is clearly shifting.”

“Damon’s attention doesn’t shift like that,” Bonnie argued knowingly. “Once he gets hung up on a girl, he’s pretty much a loveslave for life.”

“Tell that to Katherine,” Lucy mused, wryly.

“That was different. She was a psychotic bitch—”

“ _Amen,_  sister.”

“Besides,” Bonnie continued, still dubious, “he shifts attention to me right when he lifebonded? How am I not supposed to see the obvious connections?”

“Bonnie!” Lucy exclaimed, exasperated. She scrunched her face up into an expression of disbelief like Bonnie had just said the sky was made of marshmallows. Bonnie had no idea what she'd said that was so outrageous, but she watched as Lucy folded her arms across her chest so that the stake that was palmed in her right hand jetted out. “The guy lifebonded to you. He chose that. He  _chose_  that.”

“I know that,” Bonnie snapped. 

Lucy pinned her with a sharp look. “I don’t think you do. Obviously, there were some feelings present otherwise he wouldn’t have gone through with it in the first place. The poor sucker chose to be tied to you in this one-way lifebond, venturing the prospect of lot of pain. For  _you._  I barely know the guy, and it’s staring me right in the face. Tell me you’re not that oblivious.” 

“I’m not oblivious to anything.”

“I’m starting to disagree. Look, for me it’s an open and shut case. I saw how intense he got when you were in a coma. The guy was pretty torn up.”

Bonnie froze. “He was?”

Lucy turned to glare at her, incredulous. 

“I just—” Bonnie coughed, waving away the disgusting puff of smoke with her hands. Annoyed, she grabbed the cigarette off Lucy’s lips and held it up menacingly. “How many times do I have to say it: this shit is going to kill you.” She threw it to the ground and snubbed it out with her boots. “You need to quit already.”

“That was my last cigarette,” Lucy complained.

“Then I did you a favor.”

“Well,” a masculine voice cut in, and the girls whirled to discover that Jeremy was standing behind them. The compass in her hands was still spinning like crazy and it took another second for her to notice that two other vamps had crowded around them, trapping Bonnie and Lucy into the center of a devil’s triangle. “As fascinating and educative as this has been,” Jeremy mused with a wry grin. “I’m really on a bit of a schedule.”

This was bad.

This was worse than bad.

Beside her, Lucy gripped the stake in her hand tightly and Bonnie realized it was their own only weapon against all three. They’d been expecting only the one vamp – and while that explained why both the compass and her own internal senses had been giving such mixed signals, it upped the potential carnage. One of the vamps was a teenage boy, clearly a newbie, but the other was a woman who Bonnie could already sense held plenty of power and age. Two hundred years old? Maybe older? 

Bonnie and Lucy looked to each other, communicated on this instinctual level that needed no words - and locked hands, beginning the mental assault. Giving three vamps aneurisms at once was normally difficult, especially when one of them was over two centuries old, but between two Bennett witches, it would barely even cause a strain.

But none of the vamps flinched. 

Jeremy even smiled. “Whoops,” he taunted, then flashed his right forearm where a folded up sleeve revealed a new tattoo. It was an archaic symbol, with three crosses and a pentagram, one that Bonnie instantly recognized as a protective emblem to ward off harmful spells. She used to draw it with chalk and paint all across her bedroom windows and doorways. “You think I didn’t learn anything during the two years I dated you?”

The other two vamps were sporting the same tattoo. 

“Stand down,” Lucy warned coldly. “You think a symbol like that is going to stop two witches?”

Jeremy shrugged. “Probably not, but see, I kinda got a magical-doer of my own now. Helped me with some stuff. Speaking of, you might wanna check in on your puppy. Something tells me that Tyler is going to get loose any second now.”

From some unnamed distance away, a werewolf howl of ferocious intensity took up, carrying across the night sky. A second later, Bonnie heard the distinct screams of both Alaric and Ben. Blood drained from her face, and Bonnie turned to Lucy.

“Go!” she ordered her cousin. “Check on them!”

“But—” Lucy protested.

“Do it, Lucy! Make sure they’re all right!”

Lucy wavered, but after a beat, dropped the stake into Bonnie’s free hand and took off for the sounds of screaming. A witch was working on Jeremy’s side; Bonnie could only think of her mother, and that sting of betrayal was like a fresh slap across her face. She had no idea how that alliance had arisen, but it changed the scope of the fight to add another advantage to Jeremy’s side. The smart thing to do was to be cautious and measured.

But Bonnie was suddenly too pissed off for that. “Jeremy, we both know that even three against one, I can still take you.”

“Big bad Bonnie. God, I’d forgotten how hot you could be like this. I’m sure Damon is enjoying that, though.”

Bonnie probably should’ve learned her lesson about eavesdropping vampires from Stefan earlier today. “Why?” she taunted back, tucking the compass into her back pocket. “You jealous?”

Jeremy’s features froze, and then he tipped her a smirk that was vaguely reminiscent of Damon from the old days, when he was going to do something reckless and immoral and enjoy the hell out of it. “Jealousy is such an unattractive trait. I like to call this revenge.”

“Revenge? Revenge for what?”

“You locked me up, Bonnie. Took me down like a dog. Looks like it’s time to return the favor.”

“I’m not here for your personal vendetta, Jeremy,” the female vamp spoke up. “Let’s take her out already.”

“C’mon,” the male added, eagerly bouncing on his feet, ready to pounce. 

How many vamps were in town, anyway? The one that had just spoken was to Bonnie’s left, a teenage boy, blue eyed and with a mess of hair that reminded her of Justin Bieber. The other was a woman that looked a little older than Bonnie but not by much, wearing a crème colored dress and a leather jacket. Looks were deceiving. Bonnie realized the female vamp was definitely older than Stefan and Damon. Power reeked off of her. Bonnie recognized neither of the vamps, but apparently Jeremy had been making quick friends among his new circle.

“I’ve never tasted a witch’s blood before,” the Bieber-wannabe said.

“She’s mine,” Jeremy flashed a warning look. “You take her down, but remember the deal. Her blood is mine.” 

Bonnie gripped her stake tightly. “We’ll see about that.”

The three vamps rushed her at once, and all hell broke loose.

* * *

Damon felt the lifebond flare.

The rush of feeling and sensations almost made him crash the bike. Anger, adrenaline,  _fear_  - it all flooded his system and Damon had no idea what was going on, but he had a sudden intuition that Bonnie was in danger. Bonnie was fighting. He could sense her and knew exactly where she was in the twenty acre area that spanned the Lockwood Estate. She was like a siren song, calling to him. He couldn’t resist even if he’d wanted to, and Damon cranked the throttle and the bike took off, faster down the steep incline and through the dense forestry. 

He had to get to her.

* * *

Jeremy went flying back into the air.

Bonnie whirled on the others and stretched out her hands, sending a second vampire sailing into a tree. The weather was chaotic; the trees swayed and the sky darkened with clouds. Thunder rolled and Bonnie used that power to fight. The attacks came from all sides and she struck out a hand and threw a fireball to ward them off. But at one point, the female was too quick for Bonnie. She rushed Bonnie like an oncoming train, too fast and blurry for her eyes to follow, and Bonnie felt the hard impact of being slammed into the ground. Bonnie swung out with her stake but the vamp caught it, wrenched her wrist back until Bonnie cried out and the stake dropped to the dirt. 

“Quickly!” the female vamp snarled, looking to Jeremy. “The blood!”

Jeremy recovered from the ground and rushed to their sides, but from nearby there was a sudden growl. All three vamps stopped what they were doing – even Bonnie froze. They looked to the side to find Tyler-as-a-werewolf had escaped the confines of his imprisonment. His hind legs were stretched out and his front ones were lowered, ready to spring into attack. His coat was smeared with blood near his belly, and Bonnie couldn’t tell if he was hurt or the blood had come from somewhere else. He was a massive beast, all thick hair and sinuous muscles, and the glint of carnal madness in his black eyes was terrifying as hell. He bared his teeth, salivating. 

“It can’t hurt us,” the Bieber-wannabe broke the hush. “Right? We’re protected from that—”

The werewolf charged, tackling the Bieber-boy to the ground and ripping his throat out. The splatter of blood hit Bonnie in the face. She flinched and the female vamp sprang off her to edge away. Bonnie scrambled back desperately. The teenage boy’s screams tore through the sky and even though Bonnie knew that type of violence wouldn’t normally kill a vampire, the werewolf bite worked differently than the norm. Even if it’d take him a day, maybe two, before the delirious and slow-steady demise of the werewolf bite would set in, the boy would spend it in agony anyway, recovering from the physical assault. His ribcage and throat were torn open and feasted upon. 

“I thought you said we’d be protected from the werewolf too!” the female vamp hissed at Jeremy.

Jeremy glowered. “Clearly, we were lied to.”

The female released Bonnie and sped away, twenty feet in a blink of an eye. “I didn’t sign up for this. I’m out.”

“Wait—” Jeremy called, but it was too late and the female vamp was gone. 

Bonnie stretched her fingers for the stake and sat up, eyes locking with Jeremy. Could she do it? Could she kill him? That hadn’t been her intentions going into this, but the circumstances had changed and it felt like it might come down to him or her.

The werewolf finally came up from its meal, teeth and hair darkened with the smear of blood. She looked to the beast and couldn’t help but freeze in place. A growl rumbled from his belly. Desperately, foolishly, she hoped that some part of Tyler was still in there and would recognize the real threat of Jeremy before it’d turn its aim on her. She could fling it back, fight it off – but that’d risk hurting Tyler and she wasn’t nearly as well-versed on what could kill a werewolf as she was on what could kill a vampire.

The sudden roar of a motorcycle engine cut through the air, coming from behind them. The glare of headlights blinded them for an instant, and either the sound or the light must’ve scared the wolf, because Tyler took off, diving between the trees and through the night until Bonnie saw him disappear into the blackness of the forest.

She turned, but Jeremy was suddenly on top of her, pressing her to the ground, fangs bared. “No, Jeremy, no!”

The motorcycle jumped, slamming into Jeremy and carried him through the air. Bonnie gasped, sitting up, realizing that Damon had careened into Jeremy with his bike. The impact left them crashing to the ground; Damon’s body had sailed into the air and he was now lying face-down on the ground hard, half turned away from her. He groaned. From a few feet further away, Jeremy shoved the bike off him, coughing up blood. He looked to Bonnie and then Damon, and then flung the bike away so hard that it landed on its side in a clear patch of grass – less than a foot from Bonnie’s head.

“Another time,” Jeremy promised, then took off into the night.

Bonnie collapsed back, winded. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, along with the terrified exhilaration of surviving everything that had just happened. Damon groaned again, and Bonnie snapped out of it, rushing to his side. He had a split lip and a bruised face, and a myriad of other injuries she couldn’t yet list, but he seemed remarkably alert. Considering he’d just done an epically stupid and foolish move, it was a miracle he was even conscious.

“Are you okay? Can you move? Is there--”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he insisted, then squinted at her. “You okay?”

Bonnie released a huff of breath, incredulous, half-grateful and a little hysterical. “I wasn’t the one that just went careening into a vampire on a fucking motorcycle bike. Damn it, Damon. You’re human now. You can’t do that type of shit anymore. You could have been killed!”

He winced against her yelling. “Worked, didn’t it?” he simply threw back. “Why are you getting your knickers in a twist about—”

She helped him sit up, ignoring his hiss of pain and the question because a part of her realized she was so upset with him because she was so _concerned_  for him. How many times was she going to have watch this guy almost die? He wasn’t a vampire anymore but it seemed his brain was still having a little difficulty approximating his limits. He kept charging headfirst into everything like he was still as invincible as a vampire, and that… that just scared her as much as it pissed her off.

“I could have handled it,” she told him, though a part of her wondered about that. “Let me heal you—”

“No,” Damon cut in, forcefully. “Save your strength. We’re still not out of the woods yet – pun intended, of course. I don’t want you wasting your voodoo mojo on me when they could come back. I’m fine. Just keep an eye out.” 

Bonnie looked around. Neither the werewolf nor the two escaped vampires were in sight; all that was left was the bloody remains of the one vamp that Tyler had attacked. The boy sputtered, and Bonnie jumped back, realizing he was still conscious and alert despite being half torn-open. 

“Stay here,” she instructed Damon. “Rest.”

“What are you, my mother?”

Bonnie ignored him, reached for the stake and walked over to the teenaged vampire. Bile threatened to come up from her throat. He was a tangled mess and her hands were suddenly trembling, feeling pity for this vamp that had just tried to  _kill_  her. It was ridiculous and stupid, but as she brought the stake to hover over his chest, it was only the thought that she was putting him out of his misery that pushed Bonnie to finally stake him. The vamp turned ashen color, frozen in this horrific moment of pain and terror. His mouth hung open. The smell of blood lingered in the air.

Bonnie’s hands were still shaking, still trying to process everything that had just happened when she remembered Lucy and the others. “We have to find the others,” she told Damon.

“Where are they?”

“In the Lockwood crypt. About three hundred yards away.”

Damon looked too winded to move so Bonnie dropped down at his side again. Cursing a little at their situation, she wedged her shoulder firmly under Damon's arm and tugged his wrist down. He immediately barked a grisly scream into her ear. "Ah, fuck," he cursed, going pale. "My shoulder's dislocated."

She winced and released his wrist. Murmuring something mindless to him, something that was meant in comfort, she eased him back down onto the ground gently. He collapsed, a little more heavily than she expected, and Bonnie realized he was putting up a front because he was obviously more weak and abused than he let on. It made her panic a little. She still had no idea what had happened to Lucy, Alaric and Ben. Where were they? They couldn’t stay here long, and that wolf was still out there. Paranoia made her act quicker.

She glanced aside, realizing that if he didn’t want her to heal him magically, she'd have to pop his shoulder back into place the old fashioned way.

"This is going to hurt."

Damon grunted. “Do it and get it over with.”

He looked away in distaste, preparing himself for more pain, and Bonnie noticed that blood had smeared down his neck and across the left side of his shirt from some yet overlooked head wound from the back of his skull. Bonnie stared, struck again with the reality that he could’ve killed himself – for _her_. 

Lucy was right; he did genuinely care for her welfare. 

Because lifebond or not, he’d just risked his life to save her. Recklessly, no doubt – but then again, that had always been Damon’s way. A spark of gratitude washed over her, and Bonnie wasn’t thinking in the slightest when she bent her head, intending to press her lips to his cheek for a thank-you kiss. Her aim had been for something chaste and quick, but Damon, unthinkingly, turned his head slightly at the last split-second and she ended up kissing the left corner of his lips instead. She pulled back, abruptly, but then she was left staring at Damon’s face as he registered what she’d done. 

Heat – from embarrassment and something far more potent, far more dangerous – flooded through her, and for a second, a reckless impulse took up where Bonnie wanted to kiss him again, wanted to shift that last inch to the side and kiss him full on the mouth.

“I’m sorry, Damon.”

His eyes darkened. "For kissing me?"

"No, for this."

She yanked his arm back without warning. He screamed, the harsh bark making her eyes slam shut as his shoulder popped back into place. His breathing was harsh and ragged for a moment or two, before he glanced back at her.

“If that was payback for something, I apologize for whatever the hell it was. Christ.”

She cleared her throat and looked away. “We better move.”

* * *

Damon leaned heavily on her the entire way. The trek back to the crypt was a little slower than she liked, because as distracting as her sudden proximity to Damon was proving, she couldn’t overlook the glaring absence of her other friends. Concern overwhelmed all other emotions, and by the time they reached the cellar doors, Bonnie was imagining the worst-case scenario. Lucy and the others would’ve rushed to Bonnie’s aid as soon as they’d been able; something must’ve prevented them from that, and Bonnie had just made close-acquaintance with the carnage that Tyler as a werewolf could do, when unleashed. 

She prepared herself for the worst, but then stopped abruptly short of the threshold. 

“What is it?” Damon asked her.

She remembered Ben’s vision, of some dark underground place and Damon and her – and she was dead. She couldn’t go in there, could she? It would risk too much. It would lend an opportunity for the vision to come true.

“What is it?” Damon asked again, impatiently. “Let’s move already.”

 _Her friends could be hurt. Or worse._

That snapped Bonnie out of her paralysis. It was stupid and reckless, but if her people were hurt, Bonnie had no choice. She nodded, feeling vaguely sick, then stepped through the entrance. The dark corridor wound them around a block of stone before they came upon the gates that were meant to keep Tyler locked during his change. The gate was hanging half off its hinges, bars pried loose and bent. It looked like brute force had done it, but Bonnie could smell magic in the air. She could tell someone had been weaving a spell in order to weaken the metal. 

She thought back to Jeremy’s encounter, and wondered what her mother thought she was doing by throwing in with his lot. Why this attack? Why did her mother now apparently want Bonnie dead?

Then she stepped into the cage, and her eyes found the others. 

All other thoughts fled.

Lucy and Alaric were both crouched over Ben’s dead body. A claw-slash had ripped open his throat, and Ben’s lifeless eyes stared up at the ceiling. Bonnie stopped, frozen, just staring. A thousand things descended on her in a second, but the prevailing feeling was one of gut-wrenching guilt. She kept trying to shield her friends from this and all she did was keep upping the stakes. Ben was dead because of her, because she’d led him into a fight she known he couldn’t handle. 

Bonnie felt her eyes prickling with tears. 

“Bonnie,” Damon said softly.

She released him so that Damon could lean heavily against the wall for support, and started walking slowly towards the others. Lucy helped Alaric stumble to the side, away from the body so that Bonnie could approach it. Lucy looked sympathetic and Alaric looked pain, and they hadn’t escaped scot-free either; Alaric was favoring his left leg as his right one was torn open at the calf. Lucy’s hair was matted with blood from some cut above her right eye. 

It felt like Bonnie was in slow motion. With each step closer to the body, another condemnation added to the list. It was her fault the Coven members were suffering, and it was probably arrogant of her, to assume so much, but a part of her knew that her mother was in town because of Bonnie. Bethany Bennett’s motivations were obscure and shadowy, but Bonnie felt it down to her bones. This was her fault, in one-way or another. She had somehow precipitated events that led to the death of this innocent man who’d never harmed a single person in his entire life. Ben didn’t deserve this. He’d never done anything wrong.

It was all her fault.

The thought halted her in her tracks, and all emotions dried up. Fear, doubt, pain – it all disappeared in a blink of an eye, save for one emotion, the only one that could properly motivate her.

Anger. Pure, unadulterated anger.

She turned for the exit and slipped by Damon before he could reach out and grab her. “Bonnie!”

Ignoring his call, Bonnie stalked forward for the woods outside. Her legs were fueled by anger, by passion, by this sudden and undeniable void to wreak some sort of justice for what had been done. She pulled out the compass and the needle was only pointing in one direction now. She didn’t know if it was following Jeremy or the other vamp, the female one – but it didn’t matter. Either one would be able to talk, to answer some of the questions that kept adding up. Like why her mother was so hellbent on destroying Bonnie’s hometown and everyone in it?

“Bonnie, wait!” Damon said, struggling to keep up with her.

She didn’t look back.

She made it back to the area where she’d been attacked, in a third of the time it had taken to get away from it, and to her surprise Damon had kept up. He looked winded and beat up, but he must have sensed something in the way she was moving, mounting up for a fight. The vamp’s dead body was to one side, and the motorcycle was left abandoned to the other, resting on its side where it had fallen. It looked damaged, but Bonnie waved a hand and it righted itself. The engine roared to life with her magic. 

She saddled up on the bike and flipped the kickstand up. “Stay here, Damon. I’ve got to do this.”

“Do what?” he demanded. “Get off the damn bike and calm down—”

Bonnie held up a hand and he stumbled back a bit. The magic was soft, just a small push in deference to his condition, but it reminded Damon of what she could do. Bonnie was not in the mood to be manhandled off the bike. 

His voice turned pleading, shockingly desperate. “Bonnie,  _please_ , don’t do this.”

“I have to,” she returned. “No one else dies because of me.”

She revved the throttle and then took off. The roar of the engine and the rush of wind brushing past her drowned out Damon’s shouts. Her own blood pounded in her ears. His lessons on riding a bike fluttered through her mind briefly – but only briefly. She took a turn hard, skidding past and missing a tree by the skin of her teeth. She caught the dirt-road with a hard bounce, and only took the street at a more reckless speed. One-handed, she retrieved the compass and saw it pointing north.

She pushed on, intent on finally getting some damn answers.


	12. Chapter 12

  
The woods extended a few miles in every direction, but if Jeremy or that other vamp wanted to find shelter before sunrise, then there were only a few options left. Bonnie rode the bike northbound, past the fading woods into the industrial area just at the edge of town. The compass led her towards a looming factory building, gray and dingy. She slowed the bike to a crawl, looking left to right and then at the horizon where the sun was beginning to rise. The rays encroached on the land, and Bonnie flipped the kickstand down and got off. 

Grief and anger threatened to overcome her, like this fueling upswing of emotion that swept away all fear and doubt. She kept picturing Ben’s face, slack of life, and how he’d promised her only earlier that day that he could handle himself. She’d been a fool to believe him, to be that naïve. Outsiders never lasted long in Mystic Falls; few people ever did. 

But unlike certain other individuals she could name, when Bonnie went after someone, even energized by all these swirling negative emotions, she knew she still needed a game plan.

The only way this went down without further anarchy was if she kept her cool. She took a calming breath, reaping a moment to settle her nerves and center herself. Bonnie wondered if there was really an option anymore in doing this without further bloodshed, and the likely answer wasn’t a positive one. She could see just how quickly this could unfold. Just how disastrously for all sides. She needed to try to avoid that – just  _try_. If things went to hell, then they did, but it would be because there was no avoiding it and  _not_  because she’d gotten careless.

Enough people had been hurt because she’d been careless.

She pushed the front gates open and entered the factory. The place wasn’t much to look at. A few wooden crates lay stacked to one end and the otherwise vacant area was coated with a thick film of dust. No one had been in this factory in a while, but Bonnie felt her palms sweat with anticipation. The quiet flutter of sound to her left alerted her to some movement, but when she looked, there was nothing.

“There’s no use in hiding,” Bonnie called out. “It’s you and me in this factory until the sun sets. You can’t hide from me that long. So how about we try this in a civilized way, and you come out and talk to me?” There was a long beat of silence, where the vamp made no move to show itself. Bonnie grew annoyed. “Or I could just set this building on fire with you in it. Your choice.”

There was a bark of laughter, familiar and masculine, and then Jeremy emerged from behind a crate against the wall. “Getting a little cocky, aren’t you?”

Bonnie lifted an eyebrow. “Run the numbers on this situation, Jeremy. You against me, and this time there’s no other vamps and no other surprises.”

"Guess we're going to see," Jeremy said, and rushed towards her.

He moved quicker than a blink of an eye, across the span of the factory and towards her – and Bonnie struck him back with a psychic wave. He slammed into the back wall and dust kicked up into the air from where he fell. He looked up, and his features had dark eyes and spidery lines etched over his skin, and he looked murderous. He tried again, and again, Bonnie managed to send him reeling back for the advance. 

“I can do this all day long,” Bonnie taunted.

Jeremy’s expression didn’t give much away, but after a beat he looked to the side and nodded in frustration. “What do you want?” he asked, warily, brushing dust off his leather jacket.

Her instincts called for frying his ass, but she braced herself with a breath and stuck to the plan. She needed answers first, and Jeremy would be a lot more informative if he wasn’t screaming in agony the entire time. She needed to keep her cool, get what she came for.

“Let’s talk,” she told him. “But you step one foot out of line, and it’s your ass, not mine.”

Jeremy gesticulated wide with his hands, like he had nothing to hide. A little disgruntled, he grabbed some overturned chair from the corner and turned it upright, brushing off the dust before he sat it down in front of a crate. He gestured for Bonnie to join him. With a glance aside, she twitched her fingers and a chair slid across the pavement and slammed into the crate. Bonnie took it by one end and flipped it around, sitting down. They faced each other, the crate in between serving as a makeshift table. All that was missing was some bottle of whiskey, and then they could have themselves a real party just like old times.

“What do you want?” Jeremy asked, knowingly.

“Answers. What does my mother want?”

“What all good mothers want," he mocked, "to protect their children, of course.”

Bonnie stared him down. “I’m only tolerating you for as long as you’re useful to me, so don’t shortchange me on any answers.”

Jeremy flashed a look of feigned-hurt. “That’s it? Answers? No attempt to save my soul? No attempt to redeem me by imploring—”

“My friend is dead,” Bonnie cut in, and the lights in the room flickered a little with her rage. “Your little stunt back there with Tyler left a good, close friend of mine with his throat slashed open. Lines have been crossed.”

Jeremy snorted. “You and your lines, Bonnie. I don’t know what’s worse. That you’re so judgmental, and that you’re so fucking hypocritical about it. Where are your lines now that you’re two seconds shy of fucking Damon Salvatore?” Bonnie flinched, and then was pissed at herself for giving Jeremy the satisfaction of knowing his insult had landed. “That’s right, the Salvatore brothers are different, right?” Jeremy mused with a cruel smile. “Nearly two centuries of bloodshed in one brother or another, and you still excuse away their—”

“I’m not excusing anything,” Bonnie replied. “They’ve changed.”

“And what? Giving up on me already? It’s barely been a handful of days, and you’re already ready to call it quits on Team Save Jeremy.”

“If that were the case, you’d already be dead,” Bonnie warned, then paused. His eyes were so angry, so disgusted with her. “What made you this way? Were you always like this deep down, and I just never—”

“I’m a vampire,” Jeremy cut in, snidely. “That’s what made me this way. It’s the same thing that drove goody-two-shoes Stefan to drink and pillage after he was first turned, the same thing that made Damon a bloodthirsty son of a bitch for the decades after that. We’re vampires. It’s in our nature.” He leaned forward, close enough that Bonnie could have felt his breath had he still been breathing. “To suppress that goes against our very nature.”

That wasn’t a good enough answer. 

She needed to know why, and it would remain a tick in her eye until she figured it out. Jeremy was only offering her some diatribe that she’d heard often enough in the mainstream fiction that fetishized the subject of vampires, those same ones that splashed nonsense like they  _sparkled_  in the sun. Still, just as obvious, it seemed Jeremy wasn’t in the mood to give her the real answer. Either that, or maybe he didn’t know it himself? Self-awareness wasn’t exactly high up on the list of priorities for a newbie vampire.

“A few days as a vamp,” she forced out, unclenching her jaw, “and you’re already an expert, huh?”

“I’ve been living with death in one form or another since I was fifteen years old. I’m an expert on it more than most.”

Jeremy’s features never changed, at least not overtly, but in the wake of his statement he had adopted this look in his eyes that felt void of anything human, anything normal. Gone was the boy she kissed on her graduation day, and now all that was left was this monster that bore his features and his memories, and all the resentment of years overshadowed by other men and big badies. 

She pushed back, away from him. It stung that Jeremy had turned into this callous individual, but as she thought back to everything she knew of Damon and Stefan’s early days, she knew most if not all vampires seemed to go down this route. Caroline seemed to be the only exception, and even she had killed in her early days before gaining control. Bonnie wanted to give Jeremy time, give him a chance at seeking redemption, but the fact of the matter was that every day he stayed alive was another day he’d go looking for a victim. Bonnie had enough blood on her hands because of misguided faith.

Jeremy must have picked up on her ambivalence. “I’m just trying to survive,” he argued, and for the first time since he turned, his voice wasn’t hard and unyielding. It was just imploring, desperately so, “You were the one that locked me up, Bonnie. I escaped in an act of self-preservation, nothing more. I didn’t even kill Tyler when escaping, and I easily could have. The alliances that I’ve made since then were all done to make sure I can live to see the next sundown. You have no idea what it’s like.”

“What what’s like?”

“I woke up like this,” he snapped, “and then there was blood, and I just reacted, all right? I  _reacted on instincts_ , and then next thing I knew you were in town and I was locked up in the cellar, everybody’s enemy. I never  _chose_  that. You think I wanted to be your enemy?”

His outburst left a stinging silence in its wake. Jeremy always hated feeling that things were out of his control, which made that fact that his life had always been nothing but that all the more tragic. He stared her down, eyes hooded under his bangs, and seemed every bit as frustrated as the sixteen-year-old boy she’d known in high school, not some twisted, vampire version of him. 

He was still the same boy underneath, wasn’t he?

Bonnie had to remind herself to breathe. “You tried to kill me.”

“Did I?” Jeremy asked. “Think about it. Did I really try to kill you?”

She paused, sitting back. The entire ambush in the woods had happened so quickly, she hadn’t had much time to stop and process everything but it had seemed like an open and shut case. Jeremy had been after her blood – and for a vampire, there were few other needs for that besides drinking.

There was something else going on, though. Something buried beneath the surface, a motivation and explanation that Bonnie couldn’t figure out. It only reinforced her need for answers, and apparently Jeremy was the only source she had to tap.

“All right,” she declared, reaching some sort of decision, “forget about the next sundown. You wanna live to see the next _decade_? Then you’re going to have to remember a few rules of surviving. One is choosing your allies wisely.”

“And you’d be an option?”

“If you agreed to a few caveats,” Bonnie said, aware of the weight of her words, “yes. Don’t kill anyone. Don’t betray us – and yes, we won’t have to be enemies anymore. C’mon, Jeremy. Take a look at me, and take a look at my mother. When it comes down to it, who do you think is going to win in a fair fight?”

“Who said anything about a fair fight?”

Bonnie glared. “I can play dirty just as much as anybody else can.”

Jeremy smiled. “And there’s my girl.”

The endearment made her falter a little. It was a sullied sentiment of something she had once smiled at, when Jeremy used to beam at her with pride and devotion. Now it was this warped version of it. Everything about him had become so warped. The loss of his innocence cut into her like a knife slipping between her ribcage, but Bonnie steadied herself, remembering why she was here and it wasn't for Jeremy's benefit. 

Still, the nagging thought persisted. He could recover from this. Other vampires had come back from worse and Bonnie had to remind herself of that. Because for all the rationality, for all the anger and righteous indignation, for all the potential fallout, Bonnie found she still couldn’t force her hand to do what needed to be done. Jeremy was still the first boy she ever loved, and that type of hold didn’t just fall away even if the feelings had long dried up.

Jeremy couldn’t be a lost cause. 

“Work with us,” Bonnie said to him, a little more softly than she intended. “You know we’ll keep our end of the bargain. Take my offer of a truce while it’s on the table. Save me from having to tell Elena that her last family in the world is just as dead as the rest of them.”

Jeremy flinched. Bonnie realized she’d struck a nerve, but before she could pounce on it, Jeremy was saying, “And how do I know you won’t throw me back in the cellar as soon as I shake your hand? I’m not agreeing to anything that will end in me being caged like an animal.”

It was tempting to do just that – probably smarter, too. But if Jeremy had any chance at an honest redemption, then she needed to show him the way was always there. He just had to take it.

“I’ll give you my word, Jeremy. As long as you don’t kill anyone, don’t betray us, then you won’t have anything to fear from me.” She’d once given Stefan the same deal, more directed at Damon than anything – and oh, how the tides had turned. “My friend is dead because of you, Jeremy. This offer is more than generous, and I’m getting a little impatient. It expires in three seconds, and then we can go with option two which includes a lot more fire—”

“Okay, okay, jeeze,” he said, bracing his arms across his chest in amusement. “You’ve convinced me to join the side of the good. I never really wanted you guys as my enemy. It just sorta worked out that way.”

He was so fucking casual about it – and Bonnie pictured Ben’s face again, the slash across his throat. Jeremy had done that and she was letting him get away with it. A sense of revulsion worked up her throat, and she glanced away from Jeremy for fear she’d lash out and undo everything she’d just accomplished.

Jeremy needed to come in on his own, though. He needed to give her the answers she wanted – not that she could trust him for much. Everything he said needed to be taken with a grain of salt, but this was the right move. She knew because it hurt so damn much and doing the right thing always did.

“C’mon, Bonnie,” Jeremy declared, reading her like a book. “I’m not that bad, am I?”

Instincts battled inside her. Bonnie hadn’t the faintest clue if what she was doing was right or wrong. She had incentive to give Jeremy a second chance, but then again he projected such an air of arrogance and malevolent glee that she couldn’t quell the reflex to shudder.

“Aww,” Jeremy said. “Don’t worry. It’s all going to work out just—”

She slammed his face into the wooden crate, pinning him there with the power of her magic. Power coursed through her. She stood, looming over him, then pressed a hand against his back and leaned over to utter a spell, one meant to inflict an unholy amount of pain onto Jeremy at any time, at any distance, whenever she wanted. She’d never used it before, never even considered it, but this curse would force Jeremy to step into line every time she called on it. His protective tattoo wouldn’t do jackshit against that.

“What the fuck did you just do?” Jeremy snarled, when she ended. He tried to budge, but she held him in place without much effort. “Get off of me!”

“You didn’t think I’d just take your word for it, did you?” she whispered into his ear. “Step one foot out of line and I won’t hesitate to take you out.”

“Bitch,” Jeremy muttered. “What happened to our truce?”

“It’s still in place. This is just an insurance policy. Do anything to piss me off, and I don’t care how far you run or how fast. This spell will find you, and make you suffer. Count on it.”

* * *

Damon was going to  _kill_  Bonnie. If she wasn’t dead already.

He’d decided that there was no other way to deal with the arrogant, stubborn little witch. Damn it, of all the stupid things to do, running off like that after vampires was just the cherry on top of his shitty little day. He hadn’t heard one word from her all morning. What was worse, he was still too weak and bruised, and all he was capable of in his current condition was calling in for reinforcements.

Damon grimaced against the arm-sling and settled his foot onto the fender, sending a disgruntled glare at the paramedic finishing his check-up. He watched from the bay of the ambulance as Ben’s body was rolled out on a gurney, covered up in a body bag. The entire wooded area had been transformed into a crime scene. Across the patch of grassland, outside the entrance to the Lockwood crypt, Sheriff Forbes was talking it over with her deputies and the other spare paramedic. For once, the animal attack cover story was actually true. He didn’t envy Liz the task of calling Ben’s parents and conveying the message, especially since that family already had another kid comatose, but Damon’s mind only briefly flittered to Matte and the other Coven members before latching back onto Bonnie.

Yep. He was going to kill her all right. The only option left.

When the paramedic went away, Lucy settled beside him with a grunt. Her head had a butterfly bandage that showed off a neat row of stitches, and her left hand had a medical stint that held broken fingers in place. She was in better shape than Alaric, though. Poor son of a bitch had been whisked away in an ambulance as soon as the cavalry had shown up, though the major problem was probably nothing more than a broken leg. Lucy looked back, found the paramedic’s personal bag, and apparently felt no qualms in rooting around through it.

“Hoping for a smoke,” she told Damon, feeling no shame either.

“In the back of an ambulance?” Damon asked, wryly. “With oxygen tanks everywhere?”

“Fuck you, I’m tired. I deserve a smoke.”

Damon snorted, and a second later Liz walked over. “Caroline and the others are out looking for Tyler,” Liz told them, softly. “I could put an APB out for Jeremy, and Bonnie—”

“No,” Damon cut in. “That’s a bad idea.”

Liz nodded like she figured that’d be the answer. “Any idea which way they went?”

Damon pointed a hand in the general direction of the road, knowing it wouldn’t do much good. They could be anywhere by now, and knowing Bonnie’s mood, they were probably in a heap of trouble. Christ, wasn’t he supposed to be the impetuous one in their dynamic? Liz took note of the direction and left again to attend to some other issues, and for a brief while there was nothing but stinging silence as Damon’s mood glowered.

“So,” Lucy began, all faux-innocence, “is Alaric seeing anyone?”

Damon threw her a dirty look.

“What?” she defended herself, shrugging a little. “So sue me, I’m curious. He’s cute. Besides, I don’t think you get to throw any stones, not when I know you’re thinking about a certain cousin of mine.”

“I  _hardly_  think that’s the same thing,” Damon flung back, wryly. “My thoughts are driven by the pure virgin emotion of concern. Yours is driven by dirty, dirty hormones.”

The paramedic came back over, excusing them from further poking and prodding. With a groan, Damon climbed off the truck and tested the confines of his sling. His shoulder was still a little sore, and the sling was more precautionary than anything, but he still smothered a surge of annoyance at the petty inconvenience. This body now had such limited range, and he was starting to wonder how he was going to help the situation without landing in the grave. As a vampire, he’d offered an advantage. As a man, it was less so.

Releasing a frustrated exhale, Damon shaded his eyes from the sun and looked down the road.

“Relax, Damon,” Lucy said to him, a mind-reader. “Bonnie can take care of herself. Ain’t nothin’ in this town that my little cuz can’t handle, with the one exception of her mother. And, well, you – but that isn’t for the same reason.”

Damon was suddenly very interested in this conversation. “She talk to you about me?” He leaned in close, lifting an eyebrow in exaggerated curiosity. “And which one of the following traits were discussed in great detail: my devilishly handsome good looks, or my quick wit and charm?”

Lucy pushed him back with the same hand that had two broken fingers. “Your arrogance was a featured topic,” she quipped. “Can your ego get any bigger?”

“Honey, this is me beaten and bloody. This is my ego at its  _lowest._ ”

“God, that’s a terrifying thought.”

“Bonnie seems to agree.”

There was a pause, and then Lucy was saying, “Word of advice, Damon? Ease off a little on her. Bonnie has the tendency to dig her heels in harder when she’s confronted with something. Give her some time to process.”

“I’m not the patient kind.”

She scrubbed a hand across the back of her neck, and smiled. “No shit, and that's one of the reasons I like you. But if you want a shot at Bonnie without shooting yourself in the foot, then listen to me. Let her get used to the idea of you guys. It’s not everyday a girl wakes up lifebonded.”

A part of him understood that, even elaborated on the idea when he factored in everything else she was dealing with – but again, he’d never been the patient kind. Not that his impatience had ever led him anywhere in his previous pursuits of women. He’d waited around for years but not because he  _wanted_  to, only because he had to, and in the end it hadn’t made a lick of difference.

Assuming Bethany Bennett didn’t kill them all by the end of the week, Damon was kinda hoping he wouldn’t be forced into waiting an eternity for Bonnie either.

He paused, studying Lucy for a beat, growing curious. “Did you ever meet Bethany Bennett before? She’s your aunt or somethin—”

“Don’t,” Lucy cut in, tiredly. “I’m not ready for a sober conversation yet. My mind is still trying to wipe clean the image of that poor boy. Fuck, what the hell was his last name anyway? I don’t think I even knew.”

“Wittiker,” Damon answered, evenly. “Ben Wittiker.”

She shook her head as if to dispel it again, uncomfortable. “Let’s just snark at each other until one of us passes out from blood-loss. I don’t want to think too much.”

He was saved from an immediate response by the timely arrival of Stefan, who was driving Elena’s sedan, though the girl in question was nowhere in sight. She must’ve been helping Caroline look for Tyler.

Damon directed Lucy’s attention over to his brother, and quipped, “Well, don’t look now, but if you’re looking for mindless distraction, I’m sorry to inform you that nothing will kill your fun faster than my dear little brother.”

Stefan walked over to them. “We’ve got some developments,” he announced, somberly, without preamble. “I need you guys to get to a factory on the north side.”

“See? See? What did I tell you?” he pointed at Stefan. “Mr. Serious Business.”

Stefan paused, before adding, carefully, “It’s Bonnie. She’s made a deal with Jeremy.”

* * *

When Bonnie looked out the window and saw Damon and Lucy pull up to the factory, she swore under her breath inventively enough to make Jeremy's eyebrow lift. She’d called Stefan for a  _reason_. She’d rather put off the collision that was coming her way for as long as she could, but there was no avoiding it now, even with Jeremy’s presence compounding the issues. Catching Damon’s eyes through the window, she braced herself with a sigh and walked around so she could greet them at the front door.

“Well, lookie here,” Damon was saying to Lucy, though his eyes were locked on Bonnie, “I told you we’d get the chance to kill her ourselves.”

“Your concern for my welfare is touching,” Bonnie returned, “but let’s try to remember I don't answer to you.”

As they came closer, Bonnie inspected them and found that Lucy was sporting a few stitches and Damon’s face was a lovely shade of blue, too, the muscles surrounding his left eye darkening with a colorful bruise that made Bonnie wince just looking at it. The most obvious thing about Damon was his shoulder, the one she’d wrenched back into place just earlier that day, which was now fastened with an off-beige sling. The sight surprised her, as she doubted the two of them had swung by a hospital on the way here, but she didn’t question it. 

Lucy stepped past Bonnie and her eyes found Jeremy immediately, who was still sitting in that dingy little chair near the crates as he had been all morning. He’d barely moved an inch since she’d told him about the curse she’d put him under, and for a while there Bonnie had thought she might have to demonstrate its consequences in order to keep any ideas out of his head, but Jeremy seemed to realize it would only end badly for him. He was learning, slowly but surely. This wouldn’t change their truce, she knew. Badass vampires always needed extra incentive to play by the rules.

Lucy picked up a spare folding chair and flipped it open, settling down in front of Jeremy. “So,” she mused, all faux-pleasantries. “You’re the big bad new vampire that lured us into a trap. Hi, my name is Lucy. I’m a witch, and I don’t like you very much.”

Bonnie was about to interrupt the introductions when she caught sight of Damon’s approach from behind. He circled around a dusty workbench, zeroing in on her eyes when he caught them, and the exchange was sharp and insistent. Quietly, reluctantly, Bonnie pulled away while Lucy busied herself striking up a conversation with Jeremy – a conversation that already looked more like an interrogation than anything else. Bonnie could feel a headache forming behind her right eye, a combination of too little sleep and too much stress, and her head was still spinning with all the details she’d wrung out of Jeremy. She wasn’t sure she could trust a fraction of it, but even if half of what he was saying was true, the entire mess was even more complicated than she feared.

She joined Damon in a secluded spot near the far wall. She boxed herself into the corner and then realized the mistake when Damon, always one to loom anyway, took extra advantage of the arrangement and crowded around her, making the cramped space seem infinitely smaller.

“So,” Damon said, supporting his good hand against the wall behind her. She wondered how a man that battered and bruised could still exude a predatory stance, but Damon managed to pull it off without even trying. “Just for future reference, pull a stunt like that again and I might take personal offense.”

She lifted her chin and stared him down. “It wasn’t a stunt. I did what I had to – and Jeremy is cooperating now, so there were results.”

"You..." Damon shook his finger at her for a moment and then dropped it back by his side. He was smiling, but Bonnie didn't think that she ought to be taking that for anything. A snort of derision escaped. “And you’re adorable enough to believe him?”

Behind them, Lucy said something in lofty amusement and Jeremy recoiled, and though it was all too hushed for Bonnie to pick up, her attention was only half-focused on it anyway. 

“Do you want to know what I found out, or not?”

Damon rolled his eyes. “I don’t particularly like bullshit with my breakfast. You can’t trust him, Bonnie.”

“I know that.” Doubly mindful of that their audience included a vampire with super-human hearing, she said back, “I put a hex on Jeremy. He steps one foot out of line, and I’ll fry his ass no matter where he is. There’s incentive to make him cooperate.”

“You really think that would work?”

“It worked with you,” Bonnie answered tartly. “I’m sure you remember.”

The details of their relationship during those first few months he’d moved to Mystic Falls was hardly something she needed to elaborate on.

“Ah, the aneurisms,” Damon drawled, “I often wax nostalgic about it.”

“You two lovebirds done chitchatting?” Jeremy hollered at them, “or can I resume what I was telling Bonnie?”

And suddenly it struck her, the role reversal. Jeremy and Damon had switched spots in old shoes. Jeremy was the new vampire in town, wrecking havoc. And Damon – god, Damon was now the human guy that was causing all sorts of conflicting, confusing emotions, just like Jeremy had when she'd first realized her budding feelings for him. 

Something must’ve registered on her face, because Damon’s eyes narrowed in curiosity. “What is it?”

Bonnie ducked under his outstretched arm and strode away, back over to the others. “Tell them what you told me,” she said to Jeremy.

Jeremy folded his hands across his chest. “Your problem isn’t Bonnie’s mom. It’s her partner, Ethan.”

The declaration was both a curse and a blessing. If Ethan was the one that had sent Jeremy and the other vamps after Bonnie, at least it absolved her mother of one sin. It still left a host of question marks in its place, though. Bonnie wasn’t any closer to figuring out Bethany’s endgame than before, and the racking questions were getting obscene in their magnitude. 

“Ethan?” Damon came to stand behind her, hovering just to her left. “That guy’s her henchman, nothing more. His juice in magics is elementary.”

“He had enough skill to beat the crap out of you, if I recall correctly.” Jeremy flashed a smirk. “Before you were saved by your girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?”

Jeremy smiled easily. “Congratulations, she’s quite the catch.”

Damon’s eyes slowly found Bonnie on their own accord, with no prompting. “Does he know something I don’t?”

Bonnie stood frozen in place. There was the barest hint of a smirk edging out from the corner of Damon’s lips, like he was onto something. It was bad enough that Jeremy had eavesdropped on her conversation with Lucy about this evolving lifebond mess, but if  _Damon_  found out about the particularities of that conversation, Bonnie would simply die of mortification.

“God,” Jeremy taunted, capturing their attention again. His eyes were narrowed at Damon. “It’s always amazed me how you’re so oblivious to the things happening around you whenever a girl enters the picture.”

Boredom crept into Damon’s voice, “You wound me with your clever repertoire.”

“Listen, dickwad—”

“Oh,  _dickwad._  You use up all your braincells to think of that one?”

“Guys,” Lucy cut in. “You can whip ‘em out and measure later. Jeremy, continue.”

It was an order, and Jeremy was smart enough to realize that. “I don’t know where he is anymore, and I don’t know what Bonnie’s mother knows, but I do know an important piece of his plan. Ethan wants to turn Bonnie into a vampire.”

“What?” Lucy and Damon exclaimed, simultaneously.

Bonnie could sympathize, as she had the same reaction the first time she heard it as well.

“The plot thickens.” Jeremy shrugged. “That was just part of the deal. I go free, get some protection, and in turn, I turn Bonnie. Don’t know why. Didn’t really ask.”

“That makes no sense,” Lucy breathed.

But the pieces were fitting into a different sort of puzzle for Bonnie. She didn’t know why Ethan wanted her to become a vampire, only that he did and, clearly, he had a good shot at it if all the visions of her death were anything to go by. Ben’s visions, her own nightmares while trapped in that coma, the various other instances where a sense of unearthly knowledge had washed over her. This revelation would have been a lot more implausible a few days ago, but mostly, Bonnie couldn’t help but feel like it had all been building to this anyway. It didn’t undermine the gut-wrenching horror of it, but it did add a surreal level of understanding.

“If you’re fucking with us,” Lucy bit out, “it’s not a smart move.”

Damon was eerily still, behind her. Bonnie couldn’t bring herself to turn around, too aware that her own emotions were probably still a little too close to the surface. She needed to maintain some measure of poise and composure, and if there was one thing she’d learned in the last few days, Damon had a habit of upsetting her equilibrium.

Jeremy was smiling. “Got no reason to lie. And if I did, I’d obviously think of a better one.”

"Obviously," Damon echoed with mild sarcasm, but there was a hard edge underneath. Bonnie tried not to read into it, but she watched as Lucy traded a look with Damon over Bonnie’s shoulder, and if her cousin’s face was anything to go by, they were taking this revelation seriously. “What else do you know?”

“The other vampire, the female one – her name was Maggie, short for Margaret or something. She had some type of relationship with Ethan that I couldn’t figure out, but she’s old. Older than you, Damon.”

“Yeah, but I’m betting not as pretty.”

Lucy pushed off from her chair. “We can't trust him. He's the enemy-"

“Whatever you call me,” Jeremy interrupted, leaning forward to brace his hands on his knees, “I’m not the one you should be concerned about.”

Bonnie felt her spine stiffen. She liked to think she had enough concern and worry to go around, but Jeremy was right, wasn’t he? If what he was saying was true, she had bigger fish to fry – and one of them might be herself. The images of her doppleganger felt like a haunting siren call, something intimidating and engulfing, and Bonnie kept creeping closer without even realizing it. Her thoughts were so far away that she hadn’t even noticed that Damon had turned and asked her a question until he was suddenly there, face-to-face with her. 

Curiosity and something else – something like concern – marred his eyes, and Bonnie’s gaze snapped away, afraid he’d see too much. 

But seeing wasn’t the problem, was it? That damn lifebond probably told him exactly what she was feeling, maybe even what she was thinking, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.

“We should leave,” she announced, pulling herself together. Her hands felt clammy and her heart was racing, a fact that she was detested to realize that Jeremy would pick up. “We need to prepare for another attack. If Ethan is coming after me—”

“He won’t get to you,” Damon said. “You’re not going to turn into a vamp, Bonnie.”

How could he say that with such aplomb when he’d been in her nightmare right alongside her? Damon had seen that other-Bonnie. Jeremy was nothing in comparison to that. Jeremy couldn’t wreck even half the chaos that Bonnie could do as a vampire, and it suddenly occurred to her why she was so fixated on finding out what made Jeremy this way, what made him tick, switching over to the unfeeling vampire that now sat across from her.

Because chances were, now, somewhere deep down, that same switch was inside of Bonnie, just waiting to be flipped.

* * *

Damon took great pleasure in forcing Jeremy into the trunk of Elena’s small sedan. There was no other way to transport the vampire during daylight, and though Jeremy hadn’t given Damon the satisfaction of bitching about it too much, it was still the highlight of his day. Half way across town when they came to the railroad crossing, Damon took a rails at a high speed and grinned in cruel satisfaction when there was a distinct bang from the trunk and a string of Jeremy’s muffled obscenities.

Beside him, Lucy had hunched low in her seat, bracing a knee against the dashboard. In the back, Bonnie sat in unassuming silence, seemingly a millions miles away from the rest of the world. Damon watched her through the rearview mirror without trying to make it too obvious. He kept picking up currents of churning emotions through the lifebond, and though none of them were good, he had the feeling there was a whole lot more to the story than Bonnie was telling.

She was holding something back. He could smell it in the air, the way she avoided eyecontact. Aside from the disclosure of Ethan’s plans, he got the feeling there were other forces that were making her so sullen. He hadn’t seen her like this since he’d pulled her out of the coma, and though the sudden death of a close friend would have usually been enough to send anyone into a withdrawal, Damon knew better. 

She was hiding something, and it pissed him off that she didn’t trust him with it. Hadn’t he proven himself enough? Lucy warned him on going slow but his instincts screamed the opposite. It wasn’t even about the lifebond. He’d been beside her since this entire mess began. He thought that earned him a few favors. But, apparently, Bonnie still like to keep her secrets to herself and knowing the way the girl thought, it was probably out of some misguided attempt to protect others.

He pulled the car into the garage, noting that Caroline’s car was also in the driveway, parked haphazardly like the cheerleader had had other things to worry about. He got out, leaving Jeremy’s release in the capable hands of the Bennett witches, and walked out to inspect the other car. In the back, the seats were covered in mud. 

“Tyler’s back,” he announced to the others. “Lock up Jeremy in the cellar and meet me in the—”

“No fucking way,” Jeremy interrupting, climbing out of the trunk. He turned to Bonnie. “We had a deal.”

Bonnie hesitated briefly, before nodding. “We did. We’re not locking him up.”

“We’re not?” Damon asked, incredulous. “And what do you suggest? We let the evil bloodsucker roam free?”

“It worked for you for so many years,” Jeremy taunted.

Damon glared, and god, Jeremy could be such a whiny little dick. Damon felt his patience with the other man reaching its limits, and though he wasn’t yet to the side of advocating Jeremy’s staking, Damon was damn-sure untrusting of him around the house. 

But then again, he’d once let Katherine roam around this place in a few days of unwanted-and-yet-needed alliance. 

“Fine,” Damon gritted out. “Why the hell not?”

The girls accompanied Jeremy inside, and Damon took a moment to steady his frustration before he followed the group inside. Elena was there to greet them, waiting in the foyer. She stared at Jeremy with a look of quiet devastation. She was across the room, but Damon knew ever fiber of her being, no matter what she  _knew_  to be rational, wanted to rush across the room and hug her younger brother. Elena was the forgiving type, sometimes to a fault – not that Damon had room to argue against the trait, not after having benefitted from it more than a dozen or two times in the many years he’d know her.

There was a beat of heavy silence, before Stefan walked into the room and diverted attention. “Holy shit,” Jeremy breathed. “You’re alive?”

“Apparently,” Stefan returned easily, walking forward with casual disinterest. Damon knew the walk, though – had seen his brother use the same unassuming demeanor to stalk and blindside. Stefan wouldn’t likely use the same move on Jeremy, but Damon could only hope. “As I understand it,” Stefan continued, “Bonnie made a deal with you. You don’t hurt or kill anyone, and there’ll be a truce?”

“Is this the part where you threaten me if I don’t keep in line?” Jeremy said, sounding bored. “Because I’ve heard it enough I’ve already got the speech memorized.”

“No,” Stefan returned. “This is the part where I tell you that you’ve got a sister still looking out for you, and me. I know what you’re going through right now. I’ve been there.”

Jeremy ignored him. “Stefan, man, I say this as one guy who came back from the Other Side to another: you are so seriously fucked. Coming back from the dead? There’s going to be consequences to—”

“Blah, blah, blah,” Damon cut in. “Tell us something we don’t already know.”

Bonnie’s face had paled, though – and Damon resisted the urge to stick Jeremy back into the trunk for the remainder of the day just for reminding her of the Coven members again. Ben’s death was still all too fresh, but Bonnie had enough on her plate to immerse herself under that avalanche of guilt.

Jeremy pivoted to look at Bonnie, then Stefan again, adding up facts. “You did it, didn’t you? The Spell of Undoing.”

“Give the boy a prize,” Damon answered, sparing Bonnie from the question. He came over, clamped Jeremy by the shoulder, and guided him to the sofa where Damon pushed him to sit down. “Now stay here, and be a good little couch-potato. I think _Sesame Street_  is on, and you can repeat the numbers with Count Dracula. Bond with one of your own.”

Jeremy glared up at him. “You realize I could kill you in the blink of an eye, right?”

“In your dreams,” Damon mocked. “I may be human, but it’ll take more than a punk-ass newbie vampire to take me out.”

When he turned back around, Bonnie was fleeing up the stairs. The observation was overruled when Lucy began giving an update, and soon the others seemed too oblivious to note the absence of the younger witch. Damon stayed put, but only reluctantly, remembering Lucy’s advice about giving her some space, some room. It irritated him to no end, but he held still, forcing his attention back to the crowd and then adding in his two cents when Lucy began explaining about Ethan. 

“Bonnie?” Elena repeated, paling, “As a vampire?”

By then, Caroline had arrived, walking downstairs, half covered in mud. “Tyler’s out,” she announced, exhausted. “Don’t disturb him for  _anything_.”

Elena looked over. “How’s he doing?”

“About as well as you could hope, after having just found out he killed a guy.” Caroline’s eyes found Jeremy, as if suddenly registering the presence of the younger vampire, and then in a blink of an eye, she was across the room, pinning Jeremy back into the couch. “You little piece of shit!” she screamed. “Do you have any idea what you did?”

“Don’t blame me,” Jeremy gasped out, though the sound came out strangled because Caroline was crushing his vocal chords. “Wasn’t my… idea… use hi—”

“What?” Caroline snarled.

“Caroline, pull back!” Elena urged, and reluctantly, Caroline eased off, but just a bit.

Jeremy coughed a little, and choked out, “Wasn’t my idea to use him.”

“Then whose was it?”

“Ethan. You think I would have willingly put myself near a werewolf during a full moon? Son of a bitch promised me that the werewolf wouldn’t hurt us if it actually got out, and then it did—”

“And you were stupid enough to believe him,” Damon said gleefully. “Rookie move.”

Caroline climbed off Jeremy, though her eyes were still spidery-lined and black. “Give me a reason, Jeremy, just one, to put you in the ground – and I will.”

It seemed there was still one person left to give Jeremy the speech, after all – and Damon had to admit, it was the best performance yet, far outstripping even his own rendition of the threat. There was a beat of silence where Jeremy regarded Caroline under the hood of his bangs, and he seemed to realize Caroline meant it, and had almost none of the qualms that Bonnie or Elena had about it. Messing with Tyler had crossed a line, and Caroline wasn’t the forgiving type that way. 

Damon grinned. Finally, someone that was thinking clearly around Jeremy.

The tension in the room was broken a second later when Lucy announced, warily, “Man, this fucking town and its vampires.”

* * *

The rest of the day was relatively uneventful, all things considered.

By mid-afternoon, Damon’s body was starting to crash. He went up to his room, intending a brief shower, and somehow ended up passing out for the majority of the day. The adrenaline and worry that had carried him through the morning had left his body in shambles afterwards, and Damon felt every inch of his injuries as freshly as he had ever felt anything. The soreness and tight muscles was a thing Damon didn’t think he’d get used to anytime soon, and a part of him was almost ready to ask Lucy or Bonnie for a quick fix-me-up spell but pride stopped him. He needed to get used to the limitations of being human, and he couldn’t go running to a witch every time he got a booboo.

Still, Damon woke up feeling like hammered shit, and every so often he would forget about his sling and roll his shoulders to work out a kink in his neck, and the resulting spike of pain was enough to send flashes of colors dancing across his vision.

He wasn’t the only one that had used the day to recover. When he finally emerged from his room, half the occupants of his boarding house were knocked out cold. Across the hall, he could sense Bonnie turning in a fitful sleep on the other side of her guest bedroom door, and though a part of him wanted to, he fought against the instincts that would have him hovering over her bed like that  _Twilight_  dickwad. 

Caroline was with Tyler, and Lucy had no doubt taken advantage of the ample rooms in the boarding house as well. Downstairs, he found Stefan attempting to outstare the clouds outside, deep in thought. It took Damon a moment to realize that Stefan was actually using his vampire hearing to keep track of everything that was happening two rooms over, in the library. Elena was talking to Jeremy. 

When Damon discovered them together, he wasn’t exactly pleased with the sight. He didn’t like the idea of Elena being alone with Jeremy, even if Stefan was less than a heartbeat away if anything should happen. With vampires, though, a heartbeat was long enough. He let the displeasure register on his face as he intruded on the private Gilbert moment, stomping in just as Elena was pointing to something in one of the books.

“Well, well, well,” Damon announced his presence, “And what are you two crazy kids up to?” Elena flashed him a look that told him not to start. Damon, pointedly, ignored that. “Jeremy, I do hope you’ve been behaving yourself like a good little boy.”

“Fuck off,” Jeremy told him. “I’m not going to hurt Elena, so you can leave anytime.”

Jeremy seemed agitated enough by the insinuation that Damon almost believed him – almost. If there was one person who wouldn’t give up, who actually had a shot at helping Jeremy, Damon knew it was Elena. Sibling relationships were bone-deep like that, even among vampires. Just ask Stefan about the inordinate amount of bullshit he’d had to put up with from Damon over the years. 

“Behave,” Elena said, standing up to retrieve another book. The phone rang from the other room, and she turned. “Be back in one sec,” she told the guys. "Don't kill each other!"

Jeremy waited until Elena was out of sight and hearing distance, before he said, “Have you told my sister yet?” he asked. “About Bonnie?”

Damon jabbed a finger in his direction. “None of your beeswax, boy.”

“Relax, Damon, she’ll be happy to be relieved of your heavy mouth-breathing routine.” Jeremy paused, thoughtful-looking. “Though I gotta say, you and Bonnie? Never gonna happen, either. She’s too sensible for that.” 

“And you’re suddenly an expert on what Bonnie wants?”

Jeremy’s eyes darkened. “I’m a veteran in it. I remember  _all_  the ways that Bonnie wants.” 

There was hardly any imagination needed to grasp the innuendo. Damon smiled at him, looked away briefly, before he broke for Jeremy, intending to shove the younger boy against the wall – but it was impulse, unthinking, and it showed because a second later Jeremy had him whirled around and Damon was the one slammed into the wall. Damon grunted with the impact, feeling the spike of pain flare in his shoulder.

“You still don’t get it, do you?” Jeremy breathed, vamped out. “Embrace the mediocrity, Damon, because you’re human now. You’re the liability that puts everybody else at a disadvantage. You’re just… dead weight.”

“Let him go,” Stefan called, suddenly standing at Jeremy’s back. “Drop him, Jeremy.”

Jeremy let Damon go with a flourish, raising his hands in mock-surrender like he’d always been intending to let him go anyway. Damon crumpled a bit when he was released, favoring his left side a little in deference to the fact that his right shoulder felt like it was on fire. 

Elena walked back into the room, then stopped short, thrown at the sight in front of her. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Jeremy said, “Just trading lessons. Damon was teaching me what its like to be a vampire, and I was teaching him what its like to be a vampire’s bitch.”

Damon shoved off the wall but then Stefan was standing between them, holding Damon back with a restraining hand. “Enough,” Stefan warned. “This isn’t helping.”

Damon didn’t care. He stared hard across at Jeremy, and humiliation and jealousy and a swirl of anger worked through him. He pushed Stefan off and walked out of the room, and he hated it – he  _hated_  it, but he knew better than anyone that Jeremy was right. Damon didn’t have the supernatural strength that Stefan, Caroline or Tyler could offer – and he wasn’t as knowledgeable in the arts of magic as Lucy or Bonnie. Hell, he wasn’t even bringing a moral center to the group like Elena did. 

What the hell did he have to offer, then?

His thoughts were diverted when he came to the foyer and found Bonnie trying to quietly exit the building. She seemed obvious to the fact that he'd stumbled upon her, trading a quiet look to her left and right before slipping out the door. After a beat, he followed at a discreet distance. Outside, it was later in the day than he’d been expecting because the sun was lower on the horizon, and though he could probably still watch Jeremy catch on fire should he choose to toss him out a window, it wasn’t exactly like Damon could catch a tan either. By the time they got past the front lawn and Bonnie was reaching for the door handle to her truck, he realized he didn’t really have the patience for this anymore. 

“And where do you think you’re going?” he called out.

Bonnie froze, very still. Her entire demeanor screamed  _busted_ , but she squared her shoulders and turned around, adopting a look of innocence as she said, “Just needed to get out of the house for a while. Clear my head.”

“Try again,” Damon told her, walking across. “This time without the lovely amount of bullshit.” She made a move to pull the door open anyway and his hand shot out fast, pushing it closed. "Um. Ow," Damon said, half-seriously, withdrawing his hand and wincing. Pain flared up his arm.

Bonnie started to start to say something acerbic and then stopped, eyeing Damon. “Did you pull some stitches?”

It took a beat for Damon to realize what she was talking about, testing his left arm a little where the small cut at his bicep had reopened to bleed through his sleeve. He grunted in annoyance; fantastic, that had been his good arm and his favorite _John Varvatos_  shirt. Bonnie muttered something under her breath that he didn’t catch, and without waiting for permission or even asking for it, she began rolling up his sleeve and inspecting the cut. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you are more accident prone than a two-year old?” she demanded with a sigh.

“Stefan calls me a two-year old all the time, but usually for different reasons.”

Bonnie snorted, then closed her eyes. He did a quick intake of breath as he realized she was healing him again with her magic, but the presence of the lifebond had altered the feeling a little – instead of a slight tingling sensation that washed over him, there was this steady current that felt like a rush of warmth, of energy, and it coursed through him so rapidly that Damon shuddered with the impact.

Bonnie’s eyes snapped open, because apparently it had felt differently for her too. “Whoa,” she breathed. 

She released him, stepped back a little, uncertain, and seemed to be looking everywhere but at him. Damon studied her, really studied at her, for long enough that Bonnie was clearing her throat, straightening her spine, and he’d have  _killed_  to find out what she was thinking in that instant, if his touch and proximity was proving as distracting to Bonnie as hers was proving to him. 

“I—” she quickly refocused, taking a breath. “I need to leave.”

After a beat, Damon crushed his disappointment, and took an annoyed breath, refocusing as well. “And where do you think you’re going?" he asked, and tested his shoulder a little, relieved to find it didn't hurt anymore. He unhooked the sling and removed it, crumpling the cloth in his hands. He braced an arm against her truck, leaning into her personal space, "And please tell me it’s not going to be a stupid answer like, “after Ethan,” because I was kinda hoping you were smarter than a person with a death wish.” 

Bonnie flinched, proving his guess more or less accurate. “Not Ethan,” she said, pushing him back a little. “But my mother.”

“Christ, Bonnie.”

His frustration and anger must’ve actually stung because Bonnie turned defensive. “You don’t understand.”

“Damn right I don’t. Why are you setting yourself up like this?”

“Because I need to know, okay?” she hissed back at him, then worked herself up into a frustrated frenzy. “I need to know why she’s doing this and what she has in the stakes, and what the deal is with Ethan and his plans for me. I don’t know of any other way of getting that information other than the source itself, so I’d thought I’d just save us the further mystery and _ask_  her.”

“Good plan, but it’ll probably end in your death.”

Bonnie recoiled like he’d just slapped her. “Would people stop fucking saying that to me?” 

A second later, she seemed to realize the harshness of her tone, and straightened, brushing away at her hair like she was self-conscious of an inadvertent admission. Figuring this might actually be one of those instances where it was beneficial to probe the lifebond a little, even if it was cheating, he pushed against her defenses and picked up on a whole host of emotions, the most distinct being fear. It was rampant and overwhelming, and it was different to any other sort of fear he’d ever sensed off Bonnie, through the lifebond or not. He’d seen this girl face death in the face at the age of 16, and she hadn’t been a fraction as scared as she was in this moment, though she attempted to hide it with some success. 

He stepped into her personal space again, and this time he was serious rather than flirty. “What aren’t you telling me, Bonnie?” 

Bonnie stared at him, her expression so easy to read, filled with a familiar sense of frustration, but she was uncertain too. He watched as she worked her throat, the conflict about what to tell him so naked on her face that he could see the struggle, before she finally broke and said, “Fine." She sighed. "Maybe you can help."

"You don't have to sound so cheery about it," he twisted the words wryly. "I have managed to help a time or two before."

Bonnie released a breath. "Ben had a vision of me.” 

Damon had a feeling he wasn't going to like this. “And?” 

She licked her lips, and then took a breath, as if bracing herself for a high-dive jump into the deep end of the ocean. “It was you and me, in some dark, damp place – and I was dead.” Before he could even respond to that, Bonnie was continuing in a string of words, building like a crescendo, “Ben is – he  _was_  the best clairvoyant I’ve ever met. And then there was the nightmares I saw, the ones that felt too real, too foreboding. You saw them. You know. It was just nightmares but I can’t help but think it’s more than that, that the other-Bonnie I saw in there was a prediction of the future. Ethan wants me as a vampire and everything I’ve heard and seen in the last few days tells me it’s more than just a wish, it’s like this fucking oncoming disaster and I can’t do anything to stop it.” She stared at him, as overwhelmed as he’d ever seen her. “I don’t want to be a vampire, Damon.”

Damon stared, trying to process everything. He suddenly knew she felt the prediction bone deep and it sickened her on this level she’d never known before. She could handle death, but it was the idea that she’d come back from it as a monster that drove her into near panic. She tried to act cool, but Damon saw beyond her defenses and through the cracks in her armor. She was as terrified as she'd ever been in her entire life. 

A cool yet reckless impulse washed over him, and Damon didn’t even hesitate a beat. “That’s never going to happen, Bonnie.”

“You don’t know that,” she insisted in a tight voice.

“The hell I don’t,” he reached forward and grabbed her by the arm, forcing her closer, less than a breath-width away so she could see the conviction in his eyes, the certainty that he felt down to his very bones. “You’re not going to turn into a vampire, Bonnie. I’m not going to let that happen, not even over my dead body.”

She stared at him, and the intensity of his declaration must’ve knocked loose some of the anxiety because she just kept staring at him, overcome, like she was seeing him for the first time. “Why?” she breathed out, faintly. “Why do you care so much?”

“You  _know_  why.” 

Because she had to know, didn’t she? She had to have guessed even if he hadn’t said the words yet. His feelings for her had rapidly grown with all the expediency and elegance of a freight train, but he’d been naked about it the entire time. 

“You’re going to be fine,” Damon promised her. “Trust me on that.”


	13. Chapter 13

Two weeks later, Elena declared, “I think I’ve found something you need to see.”

Bonnie glanced up from her breakfast, blinking away the last bits of her morning malaise. She hadn’t even had coffee yet. The other girl in question sat down across from Bonnie at the edge of the breakfast nook, and straddled a stool with a heavy book in her arms. Bonnie bit back a sigh.

Again, with those books.

Elena had taken up a mission. Research, research and more research. Bonnie was usually one to agree with the strategy, but two weeks of nothing had worn down her enthusiasm. They’d been over those books a dozen times over, and Bonnie figured there was nothing in them that could help. 

Then Bonnie glanced at the book again. “Hey, that one is new. Where did you get that?”

“Remember Isobel’s assistant, Vanessa? The one that was doing her Masters in the Occult years ago?”

Bonnie nodded, remembering a few bits and details. “Kinda, yeah. Damon threatened to kill her?”

“Back then, Damon threatened to kill  _everybody_ ,” Elena said, and it was probably a little morbid how they could joke about that now. “Anyway, I’ve kept in contact with her, and last week she shipped off these books for me. I think it might help to figure out what your mother is doing.”

Bonnie tried to caution any surge of hope, but the mere mention of a lead already had her straightening her spine. Two weeks. Two weeks of silence. As much as Bonnie had tried to locate her mother or Ethan in that time, through various means – some mystical, others not – they were dust in the wind, nowhere to be found. Bonnie had finally come to the realization that they must’ve slipped town at some point. She doubted that they were gone for good. Rather, Bonnie figured they’d merely left for a short period of time and this, right here, this was the lull in silence, the calm before the storm.

Elena flipped the book open to one of the last pages, and pointed to an illustration. “The Red Gem,” she said. “This is the one that your mother was using as a conduit when she performed the Spell of Undoing. It’s one of a twin.”

Bonnie traded a stunned look with Elena, and then quickly scanned through the page. Their own Moonstone had worked as an effective conduit for the Spell of Undoing when Bonnie had performed it, but even though it had brought Stefan back, there had been… a lot of side-effects. Bonnie tried not to think of about the comatose Coven members. It just…  _hurt_ , and there was nothing she could to do for them. Didn’t mean it stung any less, felt any less paralyzing, when thoughts would inevitably drift to them anyway. 

Bonnie refocused on the matter at hand with a steady exhale. The book called the red gems the Blood Stones of Ethiopia. They were a pair of rare jewels that had crossed the Atlantic seas over a century ago, enchanted by witches back in the 1870s. Bonnie knew better that to take the lore written on the page before her at face value, but according to the book, they were potentially more powerful than the Moonstone. Bonnie had trouble wrapping her head around that, or even the fact that they were two of them.

“The witches’ family,” Elena continued, “they lived in New York, and still have descendants there. They even own a novelty witchcraft store, with fortune-telling and everything.”

“How do you know?”

Elena shrugged, a little sheepishly. “I did a google search.”

A laugh escaped Bonnie’s lips. “Seriously?” She glanced down and said, “So what are you suggesting? We go and find the family, and ask them about the stones?”

“And see if we can find the other in the pair,” Elena elaborated. “Think about it, Bonnie. Your mother only had the one. We could – I don’t know, utilize it somehow.”

“Elena,” Bonnie warned, hesitantly, “I’m not doing the Spell of Undoing again.” 

“I know that, but it might give us an avenue we haven’t tried before. Bring up something we haven't thought of yet? This entire house is going stir-crazy, and I think it’ll do better if we try offense a little, rather than defense.”

Bonnie couldn’t argue with that, and kept reading for a bit, though a part of her was distracted by the weight of Elena’s words.

After the last two weeks of stagnated leads, Lucy had already split town. Bonnie hadn’t been remotely surprised to find her cousin missing one morning, leaving nothing in her wake but a small note on her behalf, explaining to Bonnie that she would be around if needed, but until shit hit the fan, she had people to meet and places to be. Bonnie had crumpled the note, resigning herself to the vague excuse: Lucy had always been an impetuous gypsy; staying so long, so still for this period of time had already been a mark of her patience stretched too thin.

And then there were the others: Caroline and Tyler had finally returned to their apartment, figuring that the need to stay with the  _strength in numbers_ mentality wasn’t as necessary anymore. Alaric had returned to his home town, with crutches as a nifty little souvenir from his time in Mystic Falls. Elena and Stefan spent most of their time double-teaming up on rehabilitating Jeremy, and they seemed to making progress, though at times Bonnie wondered. And then there was Damon, and hell if Bonnie knew how to describe what was going on with Damon in any words that made sense.

Everybody was letting their guards down, suffering from boredom that lulled them into a complacent state. Even Bonnie, to a certain extent.

“All right,” Bonnie said, nodding. “It’s worth a look. When do you wanna leave?”

Elena hesitated. “Actually, I think I might be staying back with Jeremy. My brother still isn’t…” she trailed off, unable to voice the obvious dangers of letting Jeremy have too much free reign. “I don’t think a road trip is a good idea for him.”

Bonnie didn’t comment. She tended to avoid Jeremy mainly because she got the sense that she brought out the worst in him, dredging up resentment issues of the past where she’d left him high and dry. Elena seemed to be gaining a positive outlook on the situation; Bonnie tried to keep her pessimism in check, because whether it was her place or not, it was all too obvious that if Jeremy was playing Elena for a fool, then likely it would mean someone else needed to step in and deal with him. Bonnie hoped she wouldn’t be the one elected, but luck hadn’t exactly been on her side lately with those types of issues.

“Stefan can stay with me,” Elena said, almost like she was reading Bonnie’s fears. “And Caroline and Tyler are not far from us at any point.”

Which left only one option for a partner in any road trip: Damon.

Bonnie tried to quell the spike of anxiety that flared. Half the time, Bonnie wanted to run in the other direction from him, annoyed (or scared, if she was being particularly honest with herself at the moment) of their evolving dynamic. She wanted to blame the probing nature of his insight into her now, with that lifebond in play, but she suspected that maybe that was an all-too-convenient way to avoid facing other scarier truths. Genuine affections? Bonnie couldn’t ignore the fact that the other half of the time, she was usually trying to think up ways to justify being around him  _more_. It was a reckless thing, to be this emotionally entangled with a man who for the better part of nearly two centuries had represented her worst nightmare, and had only seemed to grasp the virtues of humanity in the last eight or so years.

A part of her kept thinking Damon, even human-Damon, was too volatile a creature for anyone to control – even if his expressive nature made it clear that lately he wouldn’t have minded so much, if Bonnie was the one holding the leash.

And, ugh, she did  _not_  just think that.

“Y’know,” Elena said, rather awkwardly, tucking a long strand of hair behind her ear. “If you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

Bonnie froze. “Talk about what?”

Elena flashed her a look that told Bonnie she wasn’t buying it. “You and Damon.”

It felt like quicksand under her feet, setting Bonnie’s nerves to panic. “What about me and Damon?”

“Bonnie!” Elena exclaimed, incredulous.

"What?” Bonnie insisted, in a tight-voice. “We’re the same as we ever were. How did Caroline once describe us? Pleasantly antagonistic and snarky? The status-quo remains the same.”

Elena rolled her eyes. “Yeah, try telling that to someone that doesn’t know the both of you freakishly well. Bonnie, it’s  _me_.”

Which was exactly the thing making this conversation so awkward, because when it came to Damon-issues, Elena provided a… biased perspective? Bonnie wasn’t sure if she wanted to have this conversation with the other girl, though staring at Elena, Bonnie didn’t see any hints that Elena would let up.

And then it struck her. “Stefan told you, didn’t he?” Bonnie demanded. “About the lifebond?”

Elena proved to be a crappy liar when she flinched, and  _oh_. Bonnie was going to kill Stefan as she soon as she found him; she’d specifically asked him not to mention anything to the others regarding the lifebond (Bonnie had pretty much had it to the limit with vampires eavesdropping in general), and though Stefan had managed to survive two full weeks, a record in keeping  _anything_  from Elena, it still irritated Bonnie to no end.

“Don’t blame Stefan entirely,” Elena insisted. “I’m not blind, and neither is Caroline. You’re lucky I made her promise not to hound you over this the last few days, but we’ve both seen the way… the way Damon has been acting around you. And the way that you’ve been acting around him.”

Why did she have to make it sound like they were all still teenagers in high school? 

Bonnie slumped back in her chair, and god, it was entirely too early in the morning for this. “You were talking about this with Caroline?” she asked, mortified.

“She briefly had the notion that you were taken over by a pod-person,” Elena answered, rolling her eyes. “I talked her out of testing the theory.” Bonnie snorted, which made Elena smile, and the two girls sat staring at each other for a beat. “Bonnie,” she began hesitantly, “Is there a reason you didn’t want to talk to me about this?”

Bonnie had to fight not to fidget. “Your history with Damon is hardly a mystery, Elena.”

Elena flinched. “It’s just that. History. I’m… Bonnie, I’m glad he’s moved on. I’m glad he’s found someone that’s strong and smart—”

“Elena,” Bonnie cut in, quickly, “It’s more…  _complicated_  than you’re making it seem.”

“Damon always came with complications,” Elena returned, knowingly. “You’ll figure it out eventually, but I want you to know I’m here for you either way.” 

Bonnie stared at her. “How did you do it? How did you deal with… being the central focus of his attention for so many years? It’s only been a few weeks for me, and already it’s so…”

“Intimidating? Intense?” Elena finished. “Yeah, you might wanna get used to that. Damon doesn’t really know how to be anything other than full-steam-ahead.”

“That doesn’t exactly make the notion of any forthcoming road trip any less intimidating. The last one we went on was complicated enough.”

“But it might also be what you need to figure things out,” Elena argued, though she looked sympathetic. “Look, just think about it for the day. Decide if you want him to go with you or not, and if you don’t, then I’m sure Stefan can babysit Jer for a while and we’ll make it a girl’s road trip. Just you and me, and we’ll drag Caroline along.”

That sounded  _really_  nice.

It also sounded like the coward’s way out of dealing with the situation.

“And,” Elena continued, “to answer your earlier question, I dealt with Damon’s attention by finally coming to terms with what I wanted. I wanted Stefan. I’ve always wanted Stefan.” She paused. “And, Bonnie, that’s the question you have to ask yourself. What do  _you_  want?”

* * *

As many times as the  _Grill_  had been wrecked, it was always remodeled the same way. Damon sat at his favorite stool at the bar, with three fingers of scotch in his glass and just enough ice to make it clink. Beside him, there was a couple that had just met, going through the familiar ritual that he’d seen in a thousand other bars and few times in this one. The woman was moderately attractive, and certainly better looking than the guy. Damon watched as the man laughed at something she said, his hand smoothly sliding across the bar to rest within inches of where hers sat. The stranger was making all the right moves, laying on the charm and dazzling her with witty repartee, but Damon just found it so fucking amusing.

“Y’know,” Damon raised his voice, catching their attention. “Let me just cut to the end of this chase, and tell you exactly how it’s going to play out. You, Miss, are going to wake up massively hung-over because you’re a lightweight that can’t handle three drinks, and you’re going to realize that you just fucked a man that’s ugly enough to be your in-bred brother. And you, sir, are going to quietly leave before she awakens in the morning, so your wife won’t know you’ve been cheating on her again.”

Both stared at Damon with outrage and shock, mouth agape, and Damon leaned forward to fake-whisper into the guy’s ear, “The tan-line around your ring finger? Dead giveaway.”

The woman gasped, then reached for her drink and tossed it into the man’s face. Damon pulled back from the splash, but a little of that fruity punch-drink had gotten on his jacket and Damon scowled. He watched as the man sputtered, then started with the protests, chasing the woman down. He grabbed a napkin and dabbed off the wetness.

“You are seriously an asshole,” Matt informed him, from behind the bar. “Like, a first-rate asshole that deserves a prize.”

Damon rolled his eyes. “You’re gonna have to buy me dinner first, if you expect to whisper sweet-nothings into my ear like that again.”

“He wasn’t married,” Matt told him. “I know the guy. He’s divorced.”

“Oh.” Damon paused, then shrugged. “Whoops?”

Matt huffed a sigh and turned away, attending to some other patrons at the end of the bar, when suddenly a hand slapped down a Benjamin on the counter beside Damon. “C’mon,” Stefan announced, appearing at his side. “You’ve had enough to drink for today.”

“What? I’ve barely even started.”

“The place is about to close,” Stefan informed him.

He knew that, and was wired even now, watching one couple sway awkwardly around the dance floor at the back. His mood was beginning to sour from smelling all the hormones in the air. He’d spoken to a few women at the beginning of the evening – short, flirty conversations— but it hadn’t led anywhere, mainly because he didn’t want it to. Of course, the reason for his dry-spell had also chosen to avoid his company for the day, all day.

Bonnie had been avoiding him again. Shocker. Either that, or she was thinking about the certain doom heading her way again, and had collapsed into the solitude of martyrdom which should be far more unattractive on her than it was. Annoying little witch. Why couldn’t he ever fall for the easy girls?

“C’mon,” Stefan persisted, and helped Damon stand by lifting him up under one arm. The world spun a little before righting itself, and Damon cleared his throat, still unused to the fact that alcohol hit his system faster now, him being human. “We’ve been trying to call you all night.”

“I was ignoring you. Jeeze, get a clue.”

“Damon,” Stefan said, harshly, then sighed.

Outside, the sky was the funny dark orange of bad air and late nights and light pollution, and the cobblestone outside the  _Grill_  must’ve been uneven beneath his feet because Damon stumbled a little. Stefan helped him stay upright all the way until they reached his car, and then let Damon rest a little by leaning against the hood. A police siren wailed in the distance, and he thought about how that sound used to make him laugh.

“Why are you doing this?” Stefan asked him.

Damon pretended not to know what he was talking about. “Y’know, I’ve been thinking…” he broke off for a beat, pretending to steady himself, until Stefan sighed in agitation and prodded him along, “and,” Damon continued, lightly, “I think I need some of your blood.”

Stefan went still as a statue, and about as warm to the idea. “What?”

“Your blood,” Damon returned, straightening, and dropped the drunk-act as much as he could manage. His voice went smooth, sober, “You know why.”

Both brothers stared at each other, and Damon could see that Stefan had already guessed, had already bypassed all the stops and signs along the route to reach the final destination.

 _Damon wanted to be a vampire again._

“Yeah,” Damon said, in the stinging silence that fell. “Now you see why it was necessary to get shit-faced drunk tonight? I’m celebrating my impending death.”

“Why?” Stefan demanded in a strained voice, horrified. “Damn it, Damon, why would you even—”

“C’mon, Stefan, look at me. I’m practically pissing in my pants because I can barely even control my own bladder in this body. I’m no use to anyone like this. You know it. I know it.”

“Bullshit. You haven’t even given it a shot.”

“I’ve given it plenty—”

“No, you haven’t!” Stefan lashed out. “Damon, don’t even think about this. You’ve got a gift now.”

Damon almost snorted. “Getting turned into a real boy was always  _your_  wet-dream, not mine.”

Stefan got in his face. “Stop lying. You wanted it as much as I did. And now you’ve got it, and what? You’re gonna let it go? Damon, it’s a miracle you’re human now. You’re giving up your  _life_.”

Stefan was right, of course; Stefan had a habit of being right, not that Damon would ever admit to it.

“I was never meant to be human. Not in this century, anyway.” Damon almost offered an eye roll even though he thought it might’ve ruined the effect, but a second later, the way Stefan was looking, pale, like his guts had just been ripped out – Damon couldn’t help but add in a cheeky voice, “Oh, c’mon little brother, how would eternity be without me by your side? You can’t hog all of glory.”

"I would give anything to trade places with you, and you're cracking jokes about it. Not everything is a joke, Damon.”

“Yeah, I’ve had you to remind me of that for the last 160 years. This is clearly the drunk in me saying,  _I love you, man,_  and I want another 160 out of—” but Damon never finished, because Stefan tossed him against the side of the car, and pinned him there.

“Think about what you’re doing,” Stefan exhaled out, sickly. “Think about what you’re giving up.”

Damon didn't respond for the longest beat, watching his brother carefully, the way the utter desperation in his eyes made Stefan look younger, more vulnerable, despite the fact that the strength amongst the two brothers clearly favored the vampire. Stefan’s fingers are tight around the lapels of Damon’s favorite leather jacket, and it seemed like an eternity before either one of them moved again; it was only for Damon to clamp a hand over Stefan’s hold, like the embrace was one of brotherly affection rather than a half-threat. But then again, their brotherly affections had always been half-threatening anyway.

“I’m trading in a weak body with a few good decades for a powerful and immortal one. I’m not going to stand by like an impotent asshole while everyone I care about dies.”

Stefan pulled back. “If this is about you feeling inadequate—”

“This is about everyone we care about,” Damon cut in. “Bonnie, Elena, Caroline – hell, even Jeremy. Mystic Falls isn’t Disneyland. We want to protect our people, then we make the hard choices. We always have.”

Stefan shook his head stubbornly, and there was a thick sheen of water in his eyes; Damon pretended not to notice, not to care. “I won’t help you do this,” Stefan told him, “I  _can’t_  help you do this.”

It was difficult, for a second, dealing with the stark contrast of what Stefan wanted and what Damon knew he needed to do.

But then he was tightening his grip across Stefan’s arm, turning his gaze crisp, his expression a careful mask void of emotion. They were at an impasse, always at a forever-impasse. This time, though, Damon was going to out-stubborn his brother. He  _had_  to, because he’d made a promise and given his word to Bonnie, and he didn’t see any other way of playing this. As a human, he was useless.

As a vampire, he’d always been formidable.

“I’m going to do this, one way or another. You can’t stop me, Stefan. You know that. But if I had a choice, I’d rather it be  _you_  that turned me.”

Stefan stared in horror, then pulled back and strode away.

* * *

Bonnie slept fitfully, starting awake at every strange noise: the heavy creak of the shutters hitting the window, the unrelenting drone of rustling trees, the distant chime of bells on the hour. So, when, at four in the morning, she heard Damon’s footsteps in the hallway outside her room – exhausted, but far from sleep – she conceded defeat and pulled the covers back. Slipping on some slippers, she crept out into the hallway just as she saw him stumbling past his door, almost tripping on his own shoes as he attempted to toe them off.

A single glance told her that he was drunk, and her instincts told her to whirl right back around and leave him to dry up sober before she attempted any type of conversation with him. But Elena’s words hung in her mind, and Bonnie was tired of running from him; lately that seemed all she’d been doing and Bonnie had never really considered herself a coward in any other light, and she’d be damned if she didn’t buck up and figure this out now.

She rapped her knuckles on the doorframe and watched as he turned around halfway, to glance over his shoulder at her.

“Ah,” he muttered, then resumed toeing off his shoes. He kicked them to the side and shrugged off his jacket next, saying, “And the Ice Queen emerges from her hibernation. To what do I own this visitation?”

Bonnie flinched, then leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest, unsure if she had an invitation in or not. “Elena found something this morning. A lead. It’s in New York.”

Damon was either too drunk to care, or he really didn’t care at all. “And?”

“And,” Bonnie added, venturing into the room. Damon took the opportunity to start unbuttoning his shirt, like her presence wasn’t a hindrance to his undressing process; hell, he probably considered it incentive. “I’m leaving in the morning.”

“Not alone, you’re not.”

“I—”

“Look, witch,” his eyes flashed with annoyance, “I know you’re trying to avoid me. I know I’m not your favorite person in the world right now, but if you think for one  _second_  that after telling me about all those visions and predictions of you going vamp that I am letting you anywhere out of my sight? You’ve clearly just graduated to a new level of epic stupidity. How the hell am I supposed to watch out for you if you keep running away from me like Bambi from a shotgun?”

Bonnie had been holding her breath the entire time. She had been lining up her most persuasive arguments—she wanted him to come along so he could watch her back, and she wasn't sure what other reasons they were, really, other than  _This involves you, too,_  and  _I didn’t figure you were much for the waiting game_  – and then she was laughing, sharp and sudden.

God, they couldn’t even  _agree_  about something without arguing.

"I had this speech all worked out," she admitted, feeling a little embarrassed, "about not being able to do everything myself, and not giving you enough credit, and a bunch of other things."

“What? Seriously?” Damon paused, eyes narrowing. “I want to hear it.”

"What, no," she replied, and god, she was  _not_  blushing. "It was stupid, and clearly unnecessary."

"It's very necessary," he returned smoothly, "Look at me: I'm second-guessing myself. You really  _should_  convince me."

The way he said it, he made it sound like an invitation to seduce. How did he not get whiplash going from drunk-and-angry to sly playboy that fast? The effect was helped along by the fact that his shirt was entirely unbuttoned and open, leaving a healthy expanse of his chest and abdomen exposed.

"You need convincing like a drug addict needs his next fix," she argued.

He strolled towards her and wagged a finger in her direction. "You're not impressing me, here."

Bonnie released a slow breath. Fine. She figured she might’ve owed him that much, at least. He’d been uncharacteristically patient with her the last two weeks, trying not to press her harder when she knew he’d already laid out what he wanted from her, and it was more than just friendship. It wouldn’t hurt her (…too much) to just own up to a few things, as well.

“Damon,” she began, and tried to relax her arms so she didn’t look so defensive. “I would like it if you’d come with me on the road trip tomorrow.”

“Why?” He shrugged a little. “Everybody else in town suddenly drop dead?”

“No,” she struggled out through clenched teeth, annoyed that he was making this so difficult; that she was having so much difficulty admitting that she just wanted his company. Why was it so hard to spit out?  _Oh, yes, because he was an arrogant jackass, that’s why._  “I would like you to come, because you’re…”

He edged into her personal space. “I’m what?” he goaded.

“Someone I can trust to have my back,” she eventually said. “Seriously. I know I’ve been in a lot of messy situations lately, and you’ve been… resourceful. I can’t do this on my own, and I need somebody’s help and I’m asking for yours. I know I'm not great at letting other people do things for me, but- you're the best possible person for this. You’ve got a survivor’s instincts, and if I have any chance of not turning into a fanged animal, I know it’s a better shot with you by my side. Plus," she added, trying to sound casual and failing miserably, "there's this insufferable thing going on between us that I can’t figure out and if we’re going to address it at any point, then I’d rather do it somewhere far enough away from the eavesdropping abilities of vampires like your brother and my ex-boyfriend.” She paused, then quickly added because it was worth adding, “And Caroline."

Damon stared at her for a long beat, awed. “You were just babbling.”

“I was  _not_!”

“You  _totally_  were. It was kinda adorable.”

“I will set your brain on fire.”

He rolled his eyes and turned away. “Hollow threats, now that I know you’ve got the hots for me.”

She sputtered, “Are you kidding me? That’s what you heard? That entire thing, and you’ve reduced it to  _I’ve got the hots for you_?”

“I read between the lines.”

“Funny, I always knew you were a narcissistic sociopath. I just never knew you could  _read_.”

“Usually I try to avoid it, but what can I say? The Kama Sutra has pictorials that help. There’s a number of things in there that I can show you—”

“Ugh, ew.” She waved a hand. “Just stop. Are you coming with me tomorrow, or not?”

He smirked at her. “Well, since you asked  _so_  nicely—”

“God, I’m already regretting this.”

* * *

Damon packed enough for a few days, and argued with Bonnie about the best way to get to New York. They could have done another road trip, a mere eight to ten hours depending on how much they stopped, but his own car was currently being used by Stefan through an unspoken agreement (seeing as how Damon had crashed Stefan’s damn-near priceless Porsche into a tree a few weeks back, it seemed only fair). And Damon had spent enough time in Bonnie’s cramped truck to last a lifetime. Not that he didn’t enjoy the company, but Damon had always preferred luxury if given the option.

So he just laid out his credit card and bought them some airplane tickets for first class. If they were going to do this, then at least they could go in style. Bonnie had protested at first, mainly because he knew her pride was getting a little sore by living off the Salvatores for so long. She’d been in the boarding house long enough that the guest bedroom across from his room was honorarily declared hers. He had no idea how long this visit back to Mystic Falls would last for her, but he’d already overheard Bonnie call her school up and tell her advisor that she needed to take a furlough for the rest of the semester, citing “family emergency” as her excuse.

It was about mid-afternoon the next day when Damon was throwing his bags in the trunk of a cab, headed for the airport. Bonnie was running late, of course, still rushing to pack up a few last belongings.

“Move your sweet little ass, Bonnie!” he hollered through the open door of the mansion. “We’re gonna miss our flight!”

“You realize she can hurt you, right?” Elena said to him, appearing from behind.

He shrugged it off. “It’s a standard disclaimer amongst us.”

Elena sighed. It looked like she wanted to add something, then seemed to think better of it and said nothing instead. A second later, Bonnie was rushing out the door with two more bags, even though she already had another one stuffed in the trunk.

“How much are you taking?” Damon demanded, annoyed.

“Is it strange to finally find someone that carries more hair-care product than you?” Bonnie quipped easily, and before she could even attempt to haul the bags into the open trunk, Damon quickly stepped in and lifted it for her, really thinking nothing of it until he turned back to find both Bonnie and Elena staring at him like he’d just done a neat trick on command. “And people say chivalry is dead,” Bonnie said, rather slowly, then turned toward Elena. “This is goodbye for now. Hopefully we’ll come back with news.”

“Just come back in one piece,” Elena returned. “And don’t kill each other while you’re out there.”

Bonnie rolled her eyes dramatically, and quickly hugged Elena. “I can’t make that promise in good conscience.”

Stefan had come out to join them, his arms folded low over his body, looking particularly blank-faced this sunny afternoon. He hadn’t said one-word to Damon since the prior night, where there had been too  _many_  words exchanged. He was still struggling with the idea of turning Damon. It wasn’t much of a debate, though. If Stefan wouldn’t do it, Caroline was the second option, but even then Damon could find an alternative vampire easily enough. New York City was the biggest capital for vampires in the western world. It was practically a Mecca for them.

Stefan must’ve realized this, because a moment after Damon slammed the trunk closed, he was standing at the tail-end of the cab and holding out a vial of blood. Damon stared in surprise, thrown, before searching around for the girls. Bonnie was getting into the cab, and Elena was too preoccupied with her goodbyes to notice.

“Just promise me you won’t do it unless necessary,” Stefan told him, quietly. “At least promise me that.”

Damon covertly palmed the vial, and nodded.

Stefan looked vaguely sick, anyway.

“Don’t worry, I won’t go mad with bloodlust,” Damon said to his brother. “Nobody will die because of this.”

“Nobody but you,” Stefan returned, pained.

Damon noticed that Elena was watching the brothers from a short distance, with a disquieted grief in her eyes like she knew exactly what was transpiring. Damon didn’t even have to wonder if Stefan had told her; it was written all across her face.

Elena walked forward. “Be careful,” she said, and hugged Damon quickly, whispering, “And if you’re doing this for Bonnie, you’re doing this for all the wrong reasons. She’s gonna be pissed.”

Damon pulled back, surprised. He had no idea what to say or how to respond, because Elena was…  _Elena_ , and she’d just intimated to him that she knew all about his feelings for Bonnie, much less the reasons behind his turning.

The cabbie honked the horn impatiently, saving Damon from responding. He stepped past Elena and Stefan and climbed into the backseat, where Bonnie was looking at him funny. “Everything all right?” she asked.

“Yeah, well—” he was about to toss another snarky remark, then stalled, feeling a bitterness in his throat. He just repeated, suddenly very tired, “Yeah.”

“Convincing,” Bonnie deadpanned, as the cab pulled away from the driveway.

In the rearview mirror, Damon caught a flash of Stefan and Elena standing side-by-side, and the vial of blood clinked unobtrusively against his keys inside his jacket pocket. Right near where his heart beat. The poetry of the moment was brimming with so much irony that Damon could have barked a morbid laugh.

"We need to rush," Damon told the cabby, regaining his fluency. "Extra twenty if you get us there before the end of the hour." The cabbie obliged by hitting the accelerator, and under Bonnie’s scrutiny, Damon simply added, “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, not buying it,” Bonnie said.

But she didn’t press him for the rest of the cab-drive, either.

* * *

Only three hours later the landing was rough, as though the pilot were as impatient to get off the plane as his passengers. Damon lifted his luggage out the overhead compartment as Bonnie quietly slid out from the window seat. The stewardess pulled their jackets from a nearby closet where they had checked-in coats at the beginning of the flight, and handed them back to Bonnie.

“Thanks,” Bonnie returned, still looking rather surprised by all the extra-little-accommodations that First Class seats garnered. She passed Damon his jacket. “I’m always going to compare everything to First Class from now on, aren’t I? Going back to coach is going to suck after this.”

Damon grinned, and they filed out of the plane one by one. They reached the line of cabs outside the airport in record time, and Damon gave the name of his favorite hotel in Manhattan, the Carlyle, to some Middle Eastern cabbie that spoke broken English. Bonnie didn’t comment, but Damon watched as she shifted uncomfortably under the realization that she hadn’t really thought about accommodations when she’d planned the trip, and Damon had.

By the time they hit Times Square, traffic had turned particularly appalling, and the cabbie, who had until this point driven in a somewhat meditative state of zen with some Arabic music playing low in the front, was now gripping the steering wheel with iron hands and cursing under his breath. Crossing the street, even when pedestrians had the right-of-way, appeared to be a live-action game of Frogger. Bonnie studied the flashy scenery with a look of wonder that belied the fact that this was her first visit to the Big Apple. She had the same star-struck gaze that millions of tourists had.

Damon couldn’t help but snort, and lean in to inform her, “Don’t let the bright lights fool you. A few decades ago, this place was seedy. Go-go bars, sex shops, and adult theaters,” he waggled his eyebrows. “It only got commercialized like this in the last twenty years or so.”

Bonnie looked to him. “How many times have you been to New York?”

“Used to live here in the 1920s,” Damon answered. “Crime and corruption, gambling and prostitution. Ah, fun times for a vampire.”

He could remember earlier than that, too, before it had even been called Times Square. When it had been surrounded by countryside used for farming and breeding horses, before the first half of the 19th century had sold off lots to hotels and other real estate businesses as the city spread uptown like wildflowers. Damon’s home had always been Mystic Falls, but he had history everywhere. New York was one of the few places he’d stayed at, longer than most. A few years here and there, spread out over nearly a century and a half.

“Stefan had even lived here, once upon a time,” he told Bonnie. “In the 1940’s, I think?”

Bonnie looked away, and said quietly, “Sometimes I forget how old you two really are.”

Damon didn’t have that luxury, of course. He remembered that all too well, and could only guess at what Times Square would look like in another hundred years. These thoughts had a habit of passing by every now and then, and even Damon, as imaginative as he was, couldn’t guess what the future would hold. He’d never really had much interest in trying, because changes would come and he’d never really cared about them much anyway. Soon enough, he’d be a vampire and ageless once again, looking just like this when old men would one day tell him,  _“I was born when the internet was first invented,”_  like it was the biggest milestone anyone could think of, a thing to marvel.

When they finally arrived at the Carlyle, he got a glare out of Bonnie when they checked into the suite under the name of Mr. and Mrs. Salvatore. She fumed silently the full elevator ride up to the sixteenth floor, and then had been struck silent by an entirely different motivation when the bellhop unlocked the door to their room. 

Damon had reserved a suite that cost a pretty penny, but it was worth it. The high-ceiling suite was elegant and scrupulously clean, and aside from a baby grand piano that sat unassumingly in the corner, the place was full of minimalist furniture and interesting art, and had a spectacular view of Madison Avenue at night. He’d specifically requested the corner suite with the Louis XVI décor – deep-colored walls, the hardwood floors, the custom-made wool carpeting. Bonnie would think he was trying to impress her, and a part of him was, but the truth was Damon had liked this place ever since it debuted back in the ‘30s. It was just a pleasant bonus that he got to show off for Bonnie, too.

“Just exactly how rich are you?” Bonnie asked, doing a turn-about to take in the room.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Damon threw back, smirking.

Bonnie opened one door, and found a king-sized bed with an off-white duvet and red throw pillows. She paused, then quickly threw a glance back at the living area, eyes searching for another room.

“Relax,” Damon said, “There’s two bedrooms.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Bonnie replied defensively, though the blush crawling up her neck belied that she’d been thinking it. “Which room do you wanna take?”

He waved a hand like it didn’t matter. After a slight hesitation, Bonnie took one of her bags into the first bedroom she’d discovered, and Damon walked up to the floor-to-ceiling window, staring out at the landscape. The sun was just setting behind the horizon, giving a spectacular view of New York just as twilight was falling – but Damon felt far from serene watching it. There was an uncomfortable itch in his veins, and quietly, while Bonnie was in the other room, he took out the vial of Stefan’s blood that had felt like it’d been burning a small hole in his jacket-pocket for the last few hours.

“Okay,” Bonnie announced, and Damon almost fumbled to hide the vial in his hands. He turned around to find her standing in the middle of the living room, arms spread wide to gesture the place. “I admit it, I’m officially impressed. This is really sweet digs, and don’t get me wrong – thanks, for, y’know – putting me up here. But if this is part of some sort of plan, or something, then… you’re betting on the wrong girl.”

“You’ve got an ego,” Damon threw back. “You really think I’d spend a thousand bucks a night on a place like this just to sleep with you? Sweetheart, high-priced hookers barely even cost that much, and would provide a much more entertaining evening.”

“And we’re back to me being annoyed with you rather than impressed,” Bonnie said, sighing. She rolled her eyes as she approached him, saying, “We should leave. According to Elena’s research, the people we’re looking for are in Queens.”

Damon offered a dramatic-flinch. “And the elegant portion of our evening is over.”

* * *

They took the subway to Queens, getting off at one of the last stops at Jamaica Center. They walked for about another half-an-hour, before reaching a small store, practically a hole-in-the-wall, which had a sign out front that flashed “psychic and palm-reading inside” in bright neon-green colors. 

Damon traded a look with Bonnie that conveyed his dubious reservations, and added, “If we came all the way out here for a crackpot witch that sells fortune-cookie sentiments, I am going to be pissed.”

“Hey, I was thinking $200 dollars worth of gas for my truck and Best Western,” Bonnie argued. “You’re the one insisting on spending obscene amounts of money, not me.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining about the accommodations.”

“Far be it for me to suffer a fool’s discomfort when you’re more than willing to waste your cash.” Bonnie paused. “And I said thank you, didn’t I? If it’s a problem, I can get a room of my own—”

He rolled his eyes. “I was joking, jeeze. Could you have a bigger chip on your shoulder when it comes to money?”

“Easy for you to say,” Bonne rebuked, uncomfortably and a bit angrily. “My dad didn’t exactly leave me a fortune in his will.”

Clearly he’d overestimated Bonnie’s preference for being pampered. It suddenly occurred to him that maybe he should have kept it low-key after all, with cheap motel rooms and other smelly accommodations. Bonnie apparently felt more comfortable that way, though he’d never really understand  _why_. 

Bonnie sighed, reigning in her frustration. “Look, this trip will go a whole lot smoother if we stop jumping down each other’s throats.”

“Well,” Damon began, going for the obvious innuendo. 

Bonnie glared him into silence. 

At least for a second.

“Y’know,” Damon said, “Anybody ever tell you get this cute little ridge above your nose when you’re cranky? It is so adorable.”

“I spent the summer of my sophomore year learning about spells to kill you,” Bonnie responded in a falsely sweet voice. “I used to practice them every day. Don’t tempt me into a nostalgic mood.”

He laughed, genuinely. “I like you when you’re cranky.”

He ended the conversation by reaching for the door-handle to the store. There was a bell hanging above the entrance, and it gave a little ring announcing their arrival when he pushed open the heavy oak door. Though when he found the storeowner inside, it looked like the old lady had been watching them for some time through the storefront window and hadn’t needed any warning. She was an African American woman in her late sixties, slim and aged-looking, with wrinkles etched hard on her face, the type that came from seeing a lot of cold winters. Despite being the only customers in the store, she wasn’t friendly to either Damon or Bonnie from the get-go.

“Out,” she ordered. “Your kind is not welcomed here.”

Damon had a feeling he wasn’t talking about the fact that they were tourists. He exchanged a look with Bonnie, and allowed her to take the lead on this one.

“We’re not here for trouble,” Bonnie began.

“A vampire out for blood,” the woman returned. “I saw you coming two-days ago.”

Damon groaned. Okay, so maybe the psychic-thing written out front was actually genuine. He was still subtracting points for the palm-reading gimmick. “I’m not a vampire,” he offered wryly, and kept silent about the fact that the novelty of that claim was only weeks old. “And I’m not out for your blood.”

“I’m not talking to you,” the lady returned, and pinned her eyes on Bonnie. “I’m talking of her.”

A deafening beat of silence fell, before Bonnie managed to recover. “I’m not a vampire,” she said, a little breathlessly. She gained confidence as she stepped forward, ignoring the way the older woman tensed behind the counter, her hand falling to something hidden behind a plate of glass and merchandise. “I’m a witch,” Bonnie finished. “And I need your help or a lot of people will die.”

“Is that a threat?” the woman hissed.

“No,” Bonnie returned. “It’s what’s going to happen if we don’t save them. My name is Bonnie. Bonnie Bennett. This is Damon, and we’re both from a place called Mystic Falls, Virginia. We need your help.”

“Liars,” the woman called. “I know what you bring. I’ve seen it in my nightmares. Death and madness. A plague of darkness. I will not suffer your lies, vamp—”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Damon cut in, incredulous. “Are all witches this unbelievably insufferable? Look, lady, she’s not a vampire and neither am I. Look beyond your crystal-ball to see what’s in  _front of you._ ”

The old witch met his mocking gaze, very calm, her own eyes clear, and from one moment to the next, something changed. He couldn't have named it, beyond a collection of gestures: one eyebrow rising in a narrow elegant arch, a tilt to the corner of her mouth, her chin lifting towards him a little; inconsequential details that meant nothing, changed nothing, but the air between them went suddenly electric, as easily as though she had thrown a switch. She looked to Bonnie and seemed to confirm something to herself with a nod. 

“Yes,” the witch said, exhaling. “You  _reek_  of human emotions, the both of you.”

Bonnie was starting to look annoyed. “Thanks.”

* * *

It took a few minutes for them to work around the lady's paranoia, and Bonnie had the feeling it had been more about feeling them out psychically rather than listening to their story about some old red stone that had a twin and might be of some use in saving people’s lives. The old lady had listened, of course, but not patiently and not with her full attention. They were finally lead to a back room, weaved past the bookshelves full of esoteric merchandise intended for witchcraft. The front of the store was filled with tourist trappings, all the things that an amateur or a naïve visitor would expect to find in a bookstore for witchcraft. The back, however, was where the real merchandise was stored. There were a number of dead creatures hanging upside down from hooks; Bonnie counted sixteen, maybe seventeen, dead ravens hanging upside down, and as Damon passed them by, he frowned and traded a look with Bonnie that showed his disapproval.

A sacrificial element was usually reserved for dark arts, the black magic.

Bonnie felt her defenses go up even higher. They reached a final door, and the old lady unbolted a lock and, walking slowly, unconcerned with the quickly-fading candle that served as their single source of light, told Bonnie and Damon to wait in the corridor. The old lady didn’t wait for a response, disappearing behind the door, leaving them in pitch-black-darkness. She  _felt_  more than saw Damon move besides her, stopping to lean idly against the building’s crumpling wall with his hands in his pocket.

“So,” he began softly, “who wants to follow the creepy lady into the dark, creepy room in the back of her really, really creepy store?”

Bonnie listened to the rustle of movement behind the door for a moment, concentrating on sensing with her powers. The place reeked of magic, almost overwhelming. Bonnie had caught a whiff of it and now the smell was refusing to disperse, like the stench of sulfur that brought out her gag-reflex. She didn’t think Damon sensed it, but something about her silence must’ve disturbed him because he moved nearer, to stand at her back, close enough that she could feel his breath on her neck.

“What is it?” he asked.

Bonnie debated with herself. A few minutes wasn't really all that much time, but if they could get some answers, this entire trip might still be worth it. If she could just figure out a few  _whys_  and  _hows_  and  _wherefores_  of her mother’s plans, before Bethany managed to execute the next stage of it, then Bonnie was willing to risk a few more minutes.

“Keep an eye out,” Bonnie eventually said to him. “I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

“See? I knew we’d come to some sort of agreement during this trip.”

The wait proved tedious, made all the more unbearable by Damon’s proximity, who hadn’t yet moved away despite there being no particular need for such close quarters. She was almost to the point where she could claim she was used to Damon looming over her like that, a habit that he’d always practiced on her whenever she’d been within any reachable vicinity. When she was younger, she knew it had been to intimidate her. Then, when they had become friends, it had been a way to tease her. Now, it was neither as antagonistic as the former, nor as harmless as the latter, but somewhere in between. She wished she could say it didn’t affect her, but it would’ve been a lie.

Damon pressed his advantage by hovering and then leaning close to whisper in her ear, “Y’know, if it weren’t for all the dead animals in the vicinity, this might actually create a certain romantic atmosphere.”

Bonnie slanted him a look, lips half-upturned into a smile despite herself, and was silently relieved that it was probably too dark for him to make the expression. Because god knew if she ever gave him an inch of encouragement with his shameless flirtation, he’d take a mile. It wasn’t that she was opposed to some flirting – they had always flirted, but it was different now, and she was hyper-aware that she had just flown halfway up the coast with him in order to figure out what was going on between them.  _Talk about pressure._  It put her in an awkward position, and intentional or not, it made her feel even more defensive than she’d been back in Mystic Falls. 

She was at least  _trying_  to resist that, because at least Bonnie acknowledged to herself that she had a metric ton worth of intimacy issues that she probably needed to get over already. And Damon – well, he came with enough baggage for the both of them, didn’t he? Clearly, whatever was going on between them wouldn’t benefit from another round of ignoring it, even if a small part of Bonnie still thought it might be the smartest option available to her.

Finally, when the seconds had stretched too long and Damon was shifted from left foot to right and then back again in impatience, Bonnie had enough. Whatever decorum they were expected to show while waiting in a dark back room with dead ravens, they had already blown past the limit.

“Hey, lady,” Bonnie called, and reached for the door handle. “I’ve had about enough of—” 

It was the last thing she said before everything blacked out.

* * *

The next moment was damp and grey and painful for Bonnie, who awoke to an electrified headache that ran up and down her temples and slammed into the region behind her eyes. She didn't register much at first, except the pain and disorientation, and then the fact that she was bound tightly in a chair. Her eyes snapped open, finally, to discover she was tied up and imprisoned in a Devil’s Snare, old magic that looked harmless enough: just an outline of chalk surrounding her, in three concentric circles. Raven’s blood had been spilt on the innermost circle, and Bonnie knew what had happened. Within this trap, she wouldn’t be able to perform even the simplest of spells.

She heard a groan and then looked over, craning her neck just far enough to find that Damon was trapped in an even worse situation. He was barely conscious, lying facedown on the floor, hands bound behind his back. There was a fresh stain of blood on his shirt, dark and ugly, just below his chest. 

Bonnie called to him, but he only groaned weakly in response, saying something she couldn’t make out. “What?” she whispered urgently. “Are you okay? Damon, say something.”

“Blood,” he hissed out, and flinched, trying to move again. “Vial. Blood.”

He wasn’t making any sense, and as much as Bonnie tried to prod him to elaborate, he only kept saying a certain phrase over and over again, delirious. Something about a vial of blood and his jacket, and Bonnie suspected the wound on his abdomen was worse than it looked because the blood-loss was clearly affecting his motor and speech.

“Damon,” she urged, fighting back panic. “I don’t—I don’t understand.”

“Can’t reach my pocket,” he gasped in response, struggling to make sense. “Stefan’s blood.”

Bonnie stilled, and it dawned on her what he’d been desperately trying to choke out. “Vampire blood?”

“Won’t survive without it,” he stuttered out, wheezing.

He rolled himself over to one side, looking desperately nauseated. Bonnie gasped and then closed her eyes against the sight, because what had initially looked like a small wound was now very prominently shown to be a larger one – life threatening, even. She took a split-second to calm her jaded nerves and opened her eyes again. Damon was breathing determinedly through his nose, and some uncounted number of breaths later, he met her gaze. He knew it just as well as she did: he didn’t have much time.

“Damon, listen to me,” she urged, desperately. “This is important. Very important. How did you get that wound? Was it magical? Was it paranormal in nature?”

“Quiet!” a voice barked, and Bonnie whirled her attention to the other end of the room where the old lady had just walked in. “No more talking. You shouldn’t have come. Foolish child, just like your mother. Playing with magic beyond your scope.”

Bonnie sucked in a breath, and at any other time she would’ve jumped at the opportunity to grill the woman, one who apparently knew of her mother. But Bonnie could only think of Damon, and the precious time, possibly only seconds, that he had before he bled out.

“What did you do to him?” Bonnie demanded.

“He was right, of course,” the woman returned. “I was not looking at what was right in front of me. Neither of you are vampires, but he  _was_ , wasn’t he? He’s been turned human.”

“He’s dying! You have to do something!”

“I am!” the woman hissed. “I am returning death to those that should remain dead. You foolish child, messing with such magic. Your mother came to me once, and I’d been stupid enough to believe in her. She took one of my family’s Ethopian bloodstones and tainted it with her filth. And you—” she jabbed an accusing finger at Bonnie. “You follow in her footsteps! I can smell the magic reeking off you. You have performed the Spell of Undoing as well!”

Bonnie stared in horror, and whatever recriminations that were coming her way could wait for another time because Damon was still bleeding out. “Please,” she begged the woman. “Please just help him. He’s dying.”

“Yes,” the lady returned, softly. “He is.”

Bonnie felt tears prickle her eyes, desperation and a reckless impending fear overcoming her. She couldn’t do anything. Struggling against her bound chair, trapped in the Devil’s Trap, she couldn’t move, couldn’t cast a spell, couldn’t even touch him even though he rested only a few feet away. Bonnie looked back again. Damon was wavering between a state of consciousness and oblivion. His eyes were cracked only half-open, and  _Jesus_ , he looked pale. She searched his face for signs of life, but all she saw was the blood pooling around his body and the way he held himself very still, very carefully still like any movement might hasten death or agitate his pain. 

His jacket was half hanging open, but Bonnie couldn’t see any vial. 

What was he even doing with Stefan’s blood anyway? Bonnie shut away the question for another time.

“Bonnie,” Damon whispered, deliriously. “I’m…”

“Damon?” His eyes slid shut, rattling out one last breath, and Bonnie panicked. “Damon! Damon! Open your eyes! God, please,” and then she was all-out panicking, crying, tears steaming unbidden down her face. “Please, Damon, please just stay awake! I need you! Do you hear me? I need you!”

He never moved, never budged an inch. Bonnie felt herself go feverishly cold, feeling every second of stillness stretch out like eternity, willing Damon to move with the power of her fear, of her denial. The seconds stretched too long, though. Damon didn’t move again. 

“You cannot change this," the woman said. “It was meant to be this way. He is dead, just as he should be.”

Bonnie cried out, feeling the blow of that statement, refusing to believe it and yet knowing it to be true. Knowing it in her gut, in some unnamed place where – yes, the lifebond. She had severed it on her end at one point, but something must’ve have remained because she knew the witch wasn’t lying. Damon was dead. She could feel it. Grief overcame her, and the Devil’s Trap was old magic, and the old witch knew what she was doing. 

Bonnie sagged against her chair, grief-stricken. Tears streamed down her face, half-shocked, and god, she’d been such a  _fool_. All this time, she’d never told him, never even risked a bit, and now it was too late. Too fucking late. She would do it all differently now, if given the chance.

“You should never have messed with such forces,” the old woman said. “Such unbalance in things cannot be tolerated.”

Bonnie stared at the old witch with pure, unadulterated hatred, the type of hatred she had not felt towards anyone or anything since the day her father had died by the hands of Klaus, the type of brutal grief that had consumed her when Grams had died. The old lady stared right back, unflinching, then walked over and crouched over Damon’s body. She untied a single loop of rope at his hands, and then felt for a pulse where the ropes had chaffed his skin raw. Her eyes hardened with certainty, and she nodded to herself. The final confirmation of his death was just another lash for Bonnie, and she stiffened in her chair.

“Just tell me one thing,” Bonnie exhaled out, lowly. This was important. Too important. “How did you kill him?”

But the old woman only looked back, and said, “What does it matter? I did what was necessary.”


	14. Chapter 14

It shouldn’t have been a surprise, not really. She’d always known that there was a high likelihood that something would bring them down eventually; he was too reckless with that human body, and they kept finding themselves in these increasingly chaotic and dangerous situations. No, the surprise should have been simply that it had taken this long for something to catch up to them. But those were all logical reasons, all rational arguments; the reality of sitting not three feet away from Damon’s lifeless body was more like falling through a thin sheet of ice on a frozen lake; you knew it was going to hurt, but the reality of drowning in subzero waters was a thousand times worse than a person could possibly predict.

It had been just ten minutes, maybe twelve. Bonnie kept trying to regroup, trying to collect her jumbled nerves and figure out a way out of there – but her eyes kept returning to his body, over and over again, and her nose was running and the tears just wouldn’t seem to stop. He was sprawled inelegantly across the concrete floor of the basement, a square of light flickering lightly across his face from the candlestick nearby. There was broken glass near his elbow, and blood everywhere. The old lady seemed content in her cruelty, abandoning Bonnie to this state, like she was a mere nuisance, a pest easily forgotten. Encased to this Devil’s Trap, maybe she was?

She shook her head. “Pull it together, Bonnie,” she told herself. “Pull it together.”

Then she could teach that witch a lesson or two on what magic could do. The steady thrum of Bonnie’s powers was like electricity in her veins, ready to be unleashed. It wouldn’t take much to break the concentric circles of chalk on the floor and free herself; problem was, Bonnie was bound tight and the chair was bolted to the floor. She hadn’t really noticed anything else, and her injuries, if any, were far down on her list of priorities.

Her priorities remained fairly straightforward: One, get free. Two, take that bitch down. And three, get Damon’s body out of here. If she could figure out how he died, then she might be able to reverse it. A death triggered by magic was always reversible; Stefan was proof of that. She just hoped it had been a magical death and not a natural one. Natural deaths were always more complicated. But then again, Bonnie was having a brief stab of déjà-vu. She’d been on the cusp of her seventeenth birthday when she’d brought Jeremy back to life, a resurrection borne out of sheer grief and determination. 

And Bonnie was older now – stronger and arguably wiser. She could figure out how to use the Spell of Undoing without the side effects. It was all about magic, and Bonnie felt a reckless desperation take hold of her during those first few minutes, uncaring about any complications that could arise. She’d learn from her mistakes, refine the ingredients, reinforce some defensive barriers and—

Damon groaned.

That first beat, Bonnie didn’t even recognize the noise, but the source was undeniably from Damon’s body. Then, with eyes-wide, Bonnie watched as his fingers twitched, his body shifting a little on the floor, sending a speck of dust drifting up into the air.

Bonnie kept staring in shock, uncomprehending. “Damon?”

And he choked out in a half-shattered voice, “Fuck me.” He coughed. “That hurt.”

“Damon?!” she repeated, high-pitched.

“No,” he grunted in pain, voice twisted with that familiar hint of arrogance, even in a moment like this. “It’s the ghost of Christmas Past,” he drawled. He moved with slow, jarring movements, and it was obvious he was in nine types of anguish, completely disoriented. He wasn’t the only one; Bonnie couldn’t understand what was happening. He had been dead. He had been  _dead_. It wasn’t just something you woke up from, not even in their lives.

She felt like crying all over again, but it was such a reckless hope and a part of her couldn’t believe it. She watched as he pushed himself up, wincing, a hand braced against his stomach. He lifted a corner of his shirt to reveal his wound had vanished. “Huh,” he said, lightly. “Wasn’t expecting that.”

“Did you take Stefan’s blood?” Bonnie asked, struggling to regain her fluency. “Did you—”

“No,” he cut in, and took out the bottle from his jacket-pocket to show her the proof. “I have no idea what the hell happened.” Groaning, he raised his hand against the single candlelight like the brightness was blinding to him. “I’ve got a headache like someone poured hot lava inside my skull,” he told her, struggling to stand. “Where’s the witch?”

“Elsewhere,” Bonnie breathed.

“Not elsewhere,” the old lady announced, suddenly standing in the doorway. Damon whirled around and Bonnie stiffened. The witch seemed unperturbed with discovering Damon had risen again, like she’d been expecting it for some time with a distinct lack of wonder. Just as she seemed equally callous to their confusion. “How’re you feeling?”

“You crazy—” Damon began.

The old lady raised her hand, just slightly, but quickly enough to ward Damon off. The memory of her handing them back their asses in a sling was still apparently a fresh memory in Damon’s mind, because he took a single step back and smiled like a feral animal that would attack at the first hint of an opportunity.

“You should thank me,” the lady said. “I balanced what you had destroyed. My job is done. You are free to go.”

“Free to—” Damon cut himself off, outraged. “What the fuck did you do to me?”

She looked to him, briefly. “Give it a bit, once the disorientation wears off. You’ll understand.” With a huff of breath, like she was annoyed with slow-witted schoolchildren, she stepped into the room. “And there will be no retribution for what I have done. Seek it, and I will end you both. I have the mind to do that now, but I will show you this one mercy.”

“You bitch,” Bonnie seethed, unable to stop herself.

“I prefer to be called Felicia, actually.”

Bonnie felt her nerves ripped raw, her body still sagging with the residue of grief. “You incapacitate me, strip my powers, torture and kill Damon—”

“I took you out of the equation because I knew you wouldn’t let me do what I needed to do,” Felicia returned. “You would have fought me. Now, leave this place. If you ever return, I will kill you both. For good, this time.” Bonnie could feel her rage building, her power curling within her body like a storm waiting to be let loose. The witch apparently felt it as well, but she merely stared back, cool, unflinching. “You have more power, yes, but I have experience. I am letting you go, Bonnie Bennett. Be smart enough to leave and never return.”

Damon decided the appropriate response to that was to flip her off.

Felicia studied him, unamused. Then she turned away as if she had found him unworthy of concern, walking back into the hallway without another word or a lick of explanation for all that had just transpired. Bonnie and Damon were left staring at her, both still poised like an attack was still forthcoming. The stinging silence lingered for several seconds before Bonnie finally allowed herself to breathe, realizing the witch had kept to her word. She hadn’t locked the door, and the Devil’s Trap was easy enough to break, now that Damon was up and moving.

He must’ve realized it too because, with some effort, he shook loose his anxiety and turned to face her, frowning at the chalk outline surrounding her. “How do I get you out of there?”

“Break the barrier with water.”

“What? Seriously, that’s it?”

“It’s easy to do from the outside,” Bonnie explained, “impossible to do from the inside. I could talk about the theory and practicality behind that, but—”

Damon waved a hand. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Figured. Now, quickly, before that witch changes her mind.”

“Yeah, yeah, keep your panties on.”

He moved slowly around the room, searching for something with water, rummaging through piles of tin metal and smelly herbs and other esoteric objects with the delicacy of a bull in a china shop. “Finally!” he declared, emerging with something that looked like a globe of water.

He stumbled across the basement towards her. Smashing the globe on the chalk outline, he let the water work as an absolvent until Bonnie felt a gust of wind expand outwards just as the spell broke. She breathed a sigh of relief, feeling her powers stretch out – unrestrained. If she wanted, she could go up right now and  _deal_  with Felicia. A part of her wanted to do just that, forget about restraint or caution, forget about leaving with her tail tucked between her legs.

“Don’t,” Damon said, reading her mind. “Just let the bitch go. You’re fine. I’m fine – mostly.”

“No, you’re not,” she insisted, winching in sympathy when he dropped to his knees in front of her, working at the ropes binding her hands at her back. His fingers fumbled, uncoordinated. “You okay?” she asked him, and he grunted like it wasn’t anything, but she was still dizzy with the confusion she felt over finding him alive. Confusion  _and_  elation. “You were dead, Damon.”

Something about the way she said it must’ve given too much of her emotions away, because he froze while untying her, just to stare. She imagined what she looked like, then – tear streaked faced, red-rimmed eyes, dirt in her hair. It seemed Damon hadn’t been paying attention before because now he was just studying her, or maybe sensing her rattled nerves through his lifebond? God, what was he picking up from her? Bonnie had traveled through a torrent of emotions when she’d thought he’d died, not the least of which was finally coming to terms with her feelings for him. It was undeniable now, and she knew he recognized it, he  _must_  have. The moment was intoxicating, and fed into dangerous territory when he raised his fingers and brushed the back of his knuckles across her damp cheeks, wiping away the wetness.

He was gentle, so gentle, that Bonnie could barely breathe, hardly think – the moment stretched out, and it was too much, too much, just all too much. She broke under the thought, leaning forward to just do it, to just  _kiss him_. Or maybe he kissed her, or they met in the middle? In any variation, it didn’t matter because suddenly they were kissing. Disjointed internal dialogue ran through her head, fears clashing with her desire, but she slipped her tongue inside his mouth and kissed him like she wanted him to know the outright mania she had gone through when she’d thought he was dead.

Damon shifted into action by threading his fingers through her hair. Her hands and legs were still restrained, but her whole body was brought into the act as Damon rested his other hand on the curve of her hipbone, leaning towards her, and Bonnie felt the thrill of affirmation. Everything she’d always suspected about the intensity of her attraction to him hadn’t just been a figment of her imagination or some inflated nostalgia over a single shared kiss in the woods. The sheer potency of the kiss fogged up her thinking, and it felt impulsive, rash, but god, it felt so  _good_. When they pulled back, exhaling heavily, she was captivated by the way he swallowed a breath, how the candlelight highlighted the strong line of his throat and the bob of his Adam’s apple.

Then she looked up, and recoiled with a half-stifled scream.

“Oh, Jesus, fuck,” he choked out, suddenly across the room in the blink of an eye. His broad shoulders looked tense and rigid, and he wouldn’t look at her. “God, what the fuck did she do to me—”

Bonnie was staring at him, just staring, because she was stunned, unbelieving of what she’d just seen in him. He pivoted around with black veins all around his eyes, his face pale and scarily familiar – a vampire’s face.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, it was obvious the bloodlust was starting to overpower Damon. She could tell it had taken all of his willpower to keep his distance from her, the kiss having wetted his appetite. He was as impulsive as a newly-turned vampire, but Damon fought his instincts and they’d managed to escape the small hobble of the witch’s store without further incident. The first stop had to be to a hospital or a blood bank, some place where Damon could drink up and restore some of his body’s vitality.

He was scaring her, not that she’d ever admit it.

Damon proved frustrated and angry, but after some concentrated effort, the black spider-veins around his eyes receded and he was finally able to walk within her vicinity with some measure of control. She had no idea what was going on in his mind, to suddenly find himself a vampire again after probably just getting used to the idea of being a human. She knew how much the struggle against his more reckless impulses cost him, and Bonnie wanted to reach out to offer comfort – but she knew that would just snap his last thread of control. It tore at her that Damon was destined to keep backtracking into old ground, no matter how hard he tried to move forward.

He was still in physical pain, too. Whatever Felicia had done, it was still causing him disorientation and his body wasn’t recovering with the normal vampire speed, probably because he hadn’t fed yet. He needed blood, and they were at least a few miles from the nearest hospital or blood bank.

Bonnie eventually stopped walking, and waited until he caught onto the fact that she wasn’t keeping up with his impatient strides.

“Bonnie,” he urged, stopping to look at her. “We’ve still got another seventeen blocks to go before we hit the nearest hospital, otherwise I’m snacking on the first pedestrian I see.”

Bonnie walked forward and touched him by the arm. “Damon, listen—”

“No,” he hissed in a warning voice, yanking his arm free. “Don’t.”

He was so obvious about his fears, it was almost a little heartbreaking. “I trust you.”

He snorted, a little amused, but mostly just aggravated. “And  _now_  she chooses to get all confessional. Bonnie, this isn’t the time to—”

“You can control yourself,” Bonnie said. “You just have to remember how.”

“It’s not that simple,” he insisted in a thin voice. “I feel like I haven’t fed in years,  _decades_. It’s taking all of my willpower to stop from throwing you against a wall and—” he choked himself off, hands fisted at his sides, looking away, and she wasn’t sure if he was talking about feeding or something else. “If I hurt you—”

“You won’t,” she told him, stepping around so he had to face her. The memory of their recent kiss stood between them, a barrier, but she needed to move beyond that. Damon had lost control for a second, just long enough to scare them both, but he needed to know she wasn’t afraid of him. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the last few weeks, it’s that you wouldn’t hurt me, Damon. I know that.”

“I don’t.”

“I do,” she persisted.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. It wasn’t just a trick of light when Damon’s eyes darkened. “No. I’m not taking that chance.”

Which was how she ended up outside Mount Sinai Hospital thirty minutes later, watching as Damon compelled a nurse into hand-delivering them half a dozen bags of O-negative blood, and then sat, sickened, as Damon gorged himself on bag after bag without pause. How had the Felicia done it? Damon hadn’t ingested any vampire blood, Stefan’s or otherwise. Felicia must have done something with a spell – some type of magic, but Bonnie only had educated guesses on what.

Then it occurred to her: the second red gem, the twin. If her mother had used the other half of the pair to perform the Spell of Undoing, then the old witch could’ve done the opposite. Which meant Felicia still had the other red stone in her possession.  _Balance what she had destroyed._  Isn’t that what Felicia had said?

“All right, enough,” Bonnie said, breaking into Damon’s haze. She grabbed the bag of blood right out of his hands, tearing it away from his lips, and recoiled when Damon snarled at her. “Get a hold of yourself, Damon. We can’t stay here much longer. We’ll draw attention.”

He took a few shuddering breaths, and then his face cleared of the black veins and he nodded, himself again. She pretended not to notice the tension in his body, like he was still wound tight and hungry. They picked up another dozen bags of blood, loaded it into a cooler, and took a cab back to Manhattan. This late at night, the traffic for once wasn’t that bad. Bonnie kept her eye on Damon the entire time, watching him jittery in his seat, impatient and agitated. When they finally arrived at the Carlyle again, Damon didn’t even stop to pay the cabbie and Bonnie was forced to stay back and hand the guy all the cash she had on her. By the time she had turned around, Damon was already halfway through the lobby.

They rode the elevator up in strained silence, just as the sun was rising over New York City, and when the doors pinged open, it was like Damon couldn’t get away from her fast enough.

* * *

They were six messages on her voicemail. Three from Elena, another two from Caroline, and the last one from Stefan. They all said the same thing, and it was confirmed again when she called them up and spoke to Elena.

“Jeremy is human again,” Elena breathed to her, excitedly. “He just woke up like this. I have no idea that Damon was affected too, but Jer is—”

“I know, Elena,” Bonnie cut in, and she wanted to be just as excited, she did, but Damon had locked himself inside his bedroom like he still didn’t trust himself around Bonnie, which was a little ridiculous considering he’d had enough blood to last any vampire a full week. She sighed heavily, and asked, “How is Jeremy doing?”

Elena paused. “He’s… a little troubled, remembering some of the things he’d said and done. Bonnie, I know he’s really devastated about the things he did to you—”

“Don’t,” she stopped Elena, “I mean, don’t worry about it. We’ll have time to talk about that when we get back to Mystic Falls. Just tell Jeremy that I’m thinking about him, and I’m glad he’s all right.”

Elena kept quiet for a long beat, before she asked, “How’s Damon managing?”

Bonnie’s instinct was to lie, to say he was fine and everything was okay, and she had no idea where such protective instincts were coming from, except that maybe she just didn’t want Elena to worry. (Yeah, Bonnie thought to herself wryly, that was it. Nothing else.) After the stretch of silence had gone on for too long, Bonnie decided to answer in a vague affirmative, “He’s… readjusting,” and then quickly changed the subject, “We might stay in New York for a while, just until we figure out how to deal with Felicia and if we can get the second red gem.”

“Bonnie, I know it was my idea in the first place, but this witch sounds powerful. She’s already reversed Jeremy and Damon’s situation. Who knows—”

“We’re gonna keep our cool,” Bonnie promised. “We’re not gonna rush into anything.”

“Just be  _careful_. The red gem might not even be worth it.”

Bonnie hung up a minute later, cradling the phone in her hands until she realized she was gripping it in an iron hold. Her eyes kept drifting to Damon’s room, and she wondered what was going on with him. What was he going through? She hadn’t been beside Caroline much when she’d first been turned, but she’d seen enough of Jeremy’s transition. Surely, it wouldn’t be the same for Damon? He’d gone through this once already, a seasoned-pro. Even if Bonnie knew just as well as anybody else that it had taken over a hundred and fifty years before Damon had gotten his homicidal urges under control.

It was too early in the morning, but Bonnie ordered a round of room service and had a cup of coffee; her eyes were beginning to droop, but she refused to try for sleep, instead pacing the length of the living room area in the hopes that Damon would quickly emerge from his self-imposed exile. Her eyes drifted to the corner, where she spotted that Damon had tossed his leather jacket aside like it was just a ragged coat. Bonnie walked across and picked it up, fishing for the inside jacket-pocket where she found the vial of Stefan’s blood. She brought it up and studied the small substance under the morning light, and it was barely enough to stain a couch, but enough to turn a person, apparently.

What had Damon been doing with this in his pocket? 

She debated with herself before her impatience quickly won out over Damon’s wish for solitude. Striding over to his bedroom door, she rapped her knuckles twice on the frame before pushing the door, just a sliver. It was enough to find the thick curtains inside his bedroom drawn closed, leaving the room in uncanny darkness for this early in the morning. Damon’s back was to her, settled heavily on the edge of his large bed, head cradled in both hands, fingers intertwined at the base of his neck. 

“Damon?”

He was so still, so inhumanely still, Bonnie wondered if he’d heard her at all. The vial of blood was still clutched in her right hand, fingers curled possessively around the glass enough to turn her digits white with strain. Gradually, she made her way around the bed, sitting down beside him even though she had no idea what she was doing here or what she could say to him. He was going through something she didn’t understand – could never really understand.

The moments stretched out into silence, and Bonnie couldn’t think of a thing to say to him.

Eventually, awkwardly, she asked, “Do you want me to leave?”

A part of her felt like she was intruding on a moment that she had no right to witness. Damon made no move to answer, and Bonnie figured that was answer enough. Uneasily, she began to stand up, but less than a split-second later his hand shot out to stop her, gripping her arm so tight, it almost bruised her with the mark of his fingerprints.

“Don’t,” he pleaded desperately. “Don’t go.”

Bonnie sat back down. He finally let go of her, seeming to remember his strength after a belated beat, and Bonnie fought against the urge to rub feeling back into arm. She sat closer than before, close enough to rest her hand on top of his on the bedspread, and close enough to hear his quick intake of breath at the action.

“How're you doing, Damon? Talk to me.”

“It’s heightened,” he told her.

“What is?”

“Everything. My senses. I thought it wouldn’t be that different, turning again – that I’d be able to control it because I knew what was coming. I can’t. My body – there’s pheromones flooding it. I feel every inch, every second, every minor detail like it’s in fucking Technicolor.”

“It’ll pass,” she told him, with more confidence than she felt. “Your body will readjust. It’ll remember.” He kept silent, so she held out the vial, and pressed, “Damon, why were you carrying Stefan’s blood?”

He looked at her then, eyes reserved and guarded, though a little wild. “You know why.”

She felt the pit of her stomach cave in. The blunt answer could only imply one thing: he had been planning to turn vampire all along. Apparently, Felicia had just beaten him to the punch. The revelation left her reeling back, although why she was surprised, she didn’t know. She knew Damon. She knew his nature. He was a born predator, and he’d hated a lot of the disadvantages of being human. It shouldn’t have surprised her.

But it did. 

“God, Damon, why?”

“You know that, too.”

She pulled her hand away, pinching the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes and taking a quick second to get her thoughts in order. The man was so infinitely complicated, like a jigsaw puzzle she couldn’t figure out, one that endlessly changed. Every time she thought she’d figured him out, he did something to surprise her. Never a dull moment with Damon Salvatore, that was for sure.

“My senses aren’t the only thing that’s enhanced,” he told her, almost snidely, like he was taunting her. She could tell her reaction had hurt his feelings and he was lashing out, but nothing could have prepared her for what came next. “The lifebond. I can feel its effects ten times more powerful.”

Bonnie sucked in a breath and looked over at him, having to remind herself to exhale. Damon smirked, leaning back in bed, arms propping himself up from behind. He looked like the proverbial cat-ate-the-canary, and Bonnie was left with the fallout of yet another complication.

When he’d died, she’d felt something, a distinct absence or void that had informed her that some form of the lifebond had remained dormant all along in her, whether she’d thought that she had severed the link or not. That piece was back now, quietly unobtrusive to her mind, and Bonnie knew some form of the lifebond would now always remain with her until one or both of them dead in a true death. A permanent death. But while that was enough of a revelation, this… this was even more intimidating.

They said that when a human turned vampire, their emotions intensified. Whatever they felt as a human, they felt tenfold as a vampire.

The thought of Damon’s feelings for her  _intensifying_  was a little intimidating, to say the least. 

“Don’t worry,” he mused, lips turned wryly. He got up and walked to the window, pulling back the curtains so swiftly that sun streamed in, blinding. Bonnie flinched against the flood of light, but Damon just stood there, glaring at the sun just as much as it was glaring back at him. “I’m not asking anything from you. I know that kiss back there was just a lark, something you did out of pity or shock. Poor Damon, he’d  _died_. Might as well throw him a bone—”

“Damon,” she cut in, quickly. She ran an unsteady hand through her hair, and then slowly slid off the mattress. Bonnie had no idea how to explain that kiss or what it meant to her. God, they had the  _suckiest_  timing. Everything always more complicated than she wanted or intended, but there came a time when she had to step up to the plate and deal with things, rather than avoid them. “It wasn’t pity. It wasn’t anything like that,” she told him.

He didn’t say anything, but Bonnie could practically feel the room vibrating with his restrained energy.

“Tell me,” she said. “Tell me why you wanted to turn.”

He turned around and glared. “It’s obvious, isn’t it?”

“Obvious?” she persisted, incredulous. “You’ve spent the entire time I’ve known you obsessed with my best friend, and now you’ve done such a wild turnabout, and you expect me not to suffer whiplash? I’m  _trying_ , Damon. I really am, but you have to stop charging into this thing like it’s a battle.”

He rolled his eyes. “I think whatever my faults have been in this thing, being unclear about my intentions isn’t  _anywhere_  on the list.”

“Tell me why you’d want to turn into a vamp—”

“Because I’m in love with you!” he hissed, angrily, advancing in a blink of an eye. He was staring at her, face-to-face, expression so intense and singularly focused Bonnie forgot to breathe. “Your life is in danger, and I’m in love with you – and it’s as simple as that, okay? I can’t stop thinking about you –  _feeling_ you every fucking single second I’m awake. The thought of you in dangers  _terrifies me_ , and I feel like I’m this willing slave and you don’t even notice, do you? You don’t even care.”

“I care—”

“Not enough,” he lobbed back, viciously, “not the way I do. I’ve got this lifebond on me for the rest of my life, and it’s not breaking. So you  _own_  me for the rest of my life – and you don’t even care.”

That wasn’t true, so Bonnie did the only thing she could think of, the only thing that made sense in that instance. She reached forward, grabbed the back of his neck and dragged him into a kiss that  _showed_  him just how much she cared. 

Her mind tried to play catch up with her actions but it was almost impossible, and then Damon’s fingers threaded through her hair, tongue sliding into her mouth, doing all types of reckless things to her control, and she moaned and planted one hand against his chest, intending to push away to catch her breath and say something, but he grabbed the back of her thighs instead, easily lifting her, and the next thing she knew she was pressed against the far wall; Damon’s vampire speed had driven them across the room in a blink of an eye. It wasn’t the only thing going recklessly fast. From zero to sixty, she’d gone from being fixated on all the reasons this relationship was entirely too complicated to suddenly not giving a damn about any of it.

The angle between them should’ve been more awkward, him looming over her and her fingers wrapped around the front of his shirt like she was trying to gain purchase to climb up his damn body. He was quickly lifting her off the ground, though Bonnie was barely aware of it until he settled her on top of the nearby oak chest, his rough hands seizing hers and pinning them against the wall beside her head. She felt lightheaded with her skin was on fire. There was no room for thought or rationale, no moment in between where Bonnie’s normal control could have had the opportunity to reassert itself. She matched the tempo of his kiss with insistence, all open-mouthed and needy, her fingers dragging along his scalp and through that  _ridiculously_  sexy tuff of hair.

Over and over again he used his mouth on her, wrenching her head back so that he could suck at the spot where her pulse beat, all pressure and wetness. For a blind second, she thought he’d bite her but it passed too quickly and his attention was back on her lips again, assaulting her in a siege of kisses that Bonnie couldn’t break. Her left leg wrapped around him to draw his body flush against hers and she could feel the length of his arousal pressing against her inner thigh, spreading heat and desire straight through her.

He all but picked her up and threw her against the bed, next – then crawled up her body to mouth kisses all along the way. “Fuck, Bonnie,” he choked out, when he was against her neck, nuzzling her until goose-bumps broke out over her entire body, “I want to – shit, I just want to  _touch_  all of you.”

“No one’s stopping you,” Bonnie pointed out, breathlessly.

Dark eyes, hooded under his bangs, looked up with a leer, and underneath that was a pure predatory and arrogant smirk, one that she normally would’ve wanted to wipe clean out of pure indignation. Except, damn it, it was  _well deserved_. While he was the one that had the excuse of impulse control, it felt like Bonnie was the one suffering the effects. She usually didn’t let men get to her this easily, prided herself on her control and restraint, but there was something about Damon Salvatore that was darkly attractive enough to seduce a nun. 

God, she'd shot from one end of denial straight into his bed.

“Naked,” he demanded, stripping her of her pants, tugging them off before insinuating himself back between her legs. He got her clothes off in record time, even going so far as to snap off a button or two of her shirt in his rush to get her naked. “I don’t-- don’t have control,” he told her, almost like a word of warning. “Don’t think I can—”

“It’s all right,” she said to him.

She could stop him if he got too rough, but then strong fingers wrapped around her jaw and nape before demanding lips crashed down on hers, reminding her just how powerful he was and that she’d have to use magic to stop him. But stopping him was the furthest thing from her mind. His kisses proved addictive, purposeful, enough that she wondered at his outrageous playboy reputation and how it hadn’t done nearly enough justice on his skills. For a fleeting moment she wondered what would happen after this, how this would change and shift their dynamic – but she couldn’t think much because consequences was another thing furthest from her mind. 

His clothes joined hers somewhere on the floor, and then his hands were urging her legs apart; when he leaned down to brush kisses along her inner thigh, Bonnie swallowed a moan, and a shudder followed after. One of his hands idly drifted up to mold over one of her breasts, kneading with pressure that hardened her nipples. Her breath hitched harshly, sinking her weight back into the mattress.

He tested her with his finger and thumb first, rubbing slightly, and the first contact was just a light teasing push that caused her hands to fall to his head again, threading through his hair, pressing herself into his hand with encouragement. Then he trailed his tongue along the line of her core. She whimpered after a quick withdrawal, and through half lidded eyes she saw him lick his thumb, tasting her wetness with a sweep of his tongue.

“Stop fucking teasing me,” she warned.

He laughed. “Oh, sweetheart, I haven’t even begun teasing you yet.”

Before she could respond, he leaned forward to lick and the sensation drew a long shudder from her. She trembled above him and around him as he persisted, mouth on her clit, her head thrashing from side-to-side, her hands gripping him so tightly that her knuckles turned white. She moaned his name and that just made him suckle harder, faster, until she came with a release that robbed her of breath. A choked cry escaped her as she seized around him.

“Do you have  _any_  idea how hot you are like this?” he spoke up, wiping at his chin and already moving up to position himself between her legs. He kissed her again and she hooked a leg around his hips, lips chasing lips as their bodies twined together. They rolled across the king-sized mattress until she landed on top, hands braced on either side of his face. “Like this?” he asked, cheekily. “Should’ve known you’d want to be on top.”

She laughed, and told him, "Shut up."

She traced her thumb across his lips and locked eyes with him again. The vampire within him looked back, mixed with the man that was Damon Salvatore. _Both_ , either, it didn’t matter and there was no room for distinctions anymore. She had to be accepting of both sides if she was going to do this – and dear god, she was really doing this, wasn’t she?

She reached down to grab him and guide him inside of her, and then he was  _in_  with one slick fluid push. Bonnie’s mouth fell open, head resting forward a little, needing a moment to adjust to the feel and length of him. She held onto him tightly, one hand around his neck as the other balled into a fist around the bed sheets. Then his hip bucked up into hers, hard, and she made a tiny, incoherent sound of need in the back of her throat. The pressure built every time he pulled out and pushed back up into her, slowly at first - then rougher and faster, like his own frustrations were winning out.

She tried to force all thoughts to abandon her completely but the emotions were thick, overwhelming, and she couldn’t fight them back even if she wanted to. The rhythm of their fucking and the words she could hear muttered against her skin all proved overwhelming.

"Mine,” he grunted, darkly, possessively, just once – just softly enough to make her almost think she imagined it.

His face was twisted in a pleasurable grimace as she rode him, hard, wanting to force his release before her own, but Damon quickly changed the plan, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and rolling them so he was on top. Then he was pushing into her, again and again, and Bonnie lay with her hair sprawled on the pillow behind her, closing her eyes against the quickly building frenzy of his fucking. He crushed his mouth to hers and thrusts at an angle that made sparks go off behind her eyes.

He swallowed her moan with his mouth when she came a second time, and then finally sought his own release. He buried his head against her shoulder and braced his other arm behind her. Movement became erratic as he neared the end, and then Damon came with a deep growl against her skin, a small but faint prick on her neck barely noticeable. He collapsed onto her, breathing heavy and sweat soaked and Bonnie didn’t care about taking on the overwhelming weight of him, feeling him suckle at her neck as she came down from her high.

When he pulled back, it was probably the post-coital haze that didn’t make her react suddenly to the bit of blood on his lips, or the fact that he had his game-face on. She didn’t think he was even aware of it, until he swiped a thumb across his lips and came back with her blood on his fingertip.

Startled, Damon pulled back and dropped heavily to the other end of the mattress, breathing hard and soaked with sweat. “Jesus,” he choked out, horrified with himself. “I didn’t—fuck, I didn’t mean to—”

Bonnie felt for her neck and found a small puncture wound, small and almost indistinct, and there was barely any blood – but the sight of it had Damon drawing back.

“It’s all right,” she told him. “I’m fine.”

She was little more distressed than she let on, but  _she’d_  been the one that goaded him into sex when he’d barely been restrained. (Not that he’d put up much of a fight, mind you.) She should have expected this, but thankfully it could have been worse. She didn’t know how much he’d taken, but the mark was barely a pinprick in comparison to the damage he could’ve done to her.

“I’m fine,” she said, unsteadily. “Really.”

He climbed off the bed like she’d burned him. “I need to go feed,” he told her, and left.

The sound of the door slamming shut made her wince, offensively loud to her own ears because Bonnie was suddenly alone in Damon’s bed less than a minute after having slept with him – it wasn’t exactly how she’d seen this going down. She covered for the hurt by rolling off the bed and reaching for a tissue to press to her neck. She grabbed her underwear next and shimmied it on one-handed, but it felt like a cheap indignity, like she was doing the walk of shame after an ill-advised and drunken one-night stand.

“Okay,” Bonnie said to herself, musing quietly, “Guess this isn’t a cuddling-afterwards type of relationship.”

She should’ve known that, but it still stung all the same.

Then Bonnie squared her jaw and thought,  _screw this._  She grabbed Damon’s shirt on the way out, sliding it up and on as she made her way to the kitchenette area. Damon was standing in the middle of the room, stark naked, gulping down blood straight from the bag. Bonnie pulled up to a stop, and waited until he finished the bag, but stepped in before he could reach for another one.

“Okay, enough,” she warned. “God, you’re like an addict.”

“Not like, sweetheart.” Damon tossed back with a glare. “I  _am_  an addict.” He stopped, taking special note of her attire, and tipped an eyebrow up. “Lose your shirt?”

She stared at him, pointedly. “You weren’t using yours.” 

He gestured wide like he was unabashed by his state of undress, not that she’d expected any humility from him at all. He moved to step passed her but Bonnie blocked his path, and he  _growled_  at her. “Bonnie,” he hissed, then took a cleansing breath. “I appreciate your appetite, but I’m not up for Round Two at this point—”

“Are we talking about my appetite now? Because I thought yours was the issue here.”

“Stubborn little witch,” he mocked. “Y’know, I just took you as a snack, so maybe a little fear could be seen as healthy at this point.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

His voice had the same mocking flavor as always, but he wasn’t looking anywhere at her, his eyes to the left and away. And when he finally did return her gaze, it was more like a confrontation, especially when he put his game-face on, vamping out with fangs and dark veins. It was defense-tactic, Bonnie realized. He wanted to scare her away, freak her out. 

For her own good.

She met his gaze head-on. “You think I should be afraid of you? Newsflash. I’m not, Damon.” 

Damon pressed his advantage by stepping forward, into her space – and a part of her wanted to step back because he was right – with his face vamped out like that, it was only natural to have a fearful reaction. But she held her ground, squaring her jar and her shoulders. Vamp or not, she could still take care of herself. She needed him to know that. 

But more importantly, she needed him to know that she trusted him enough to control  _himself._

“I’m not going anywhere,” Bonnie declared. “Look, a little while back you were telling me that you were willing to turn vamp for me. So whatever problems you’re going through, you’re going to have to let me in on them.”

Impatience crept into his voice, “Feeling guilty now? Well, don’t. I didn’t turn because of you. I turned because of a crazy old witch who, like all other witches I know, are judgy-temperamental little women.”

“You haven’t seen my temper yet,” she said, then warned, “although you’re getting there. Is there any particular reason you’re being stand-offish now, all of sudden? Sleeping with me freak you out that much?”

He rolled his eyes. “I am not the one with commitment issues here, and you know it.”

“Then what is it? I just want to help, Damon.”

“So what, you’re my own personal savior now?” he drawled.

“I’m someone that cares about you,” and he flinched like that was a way for her to hurt him. She stepped forward, “Look,” she said, placing a palm flat against his chest – and his body was cooling now, barely above room temperature. His heart wasn’t beating, he didn’t have body warmth, and the way he was acting, she was wondering if the guy she’d fallen for these last few weeks wasn’t now buried beneath another ten miles of the vampire version of an existential crisis. “Damon,” she pleaded. “You don’t need to do this by yourself.”

He took a cleansing breath, and it was something she’d never really noticed about vampires before – how they took breaths only when they wanted, not when they needed. She felt his upper torso move beneath her outstretched fingers, palm splayed wide across his chest. He suddenly felt far more vulnerable than he had a second before.

“How?” he asked her. “How can you help with this?”

“Come with me,” she said. “Come back to bed.”

She took him by the hand, and he let her lead him back to the bedroom. 

She didn’t bother with making the bed covers neat and comfortable around them, just prodded him into bed and stretched out beside him. It didn’t turn sexual, though she knew it wouldn’t take much to tip the scales in that direction, but right now Damon needed to refocus, get himself under control by establishing power over the little things. After an uncertain beat, he wrapped an arm around her waist and ran the pads of his fingers across the expanse of her stomach, underneath the shirt she’d taken from him. Blades of light filtered in through the side window, and Bonnie released a soft breath.

“Hey,” she whispered to him. “You doing okay now?”

He took another breath, and his voice was soft and very, very careful, “Yeah. I think I am, now.”

They stayed that way for the rest for the rest of the morning.

* * *


	15. Chapter 15

“You know,” Damon said, sweat-soaked and loose, landing next to Bonnie as she stretched out naked across the mattress. “I could get used to this.”

Bonnie smiled. “I bet you could.”

He repositioned himself, throwing an arm around her stomach and pressing his head into her abdomen so that he could breathe in the smell of Bonnie and sex, approving whole-heartedly of the combination. She ran her hands over his back in a way that sent prickles all up and down his spine, and despite the fact that they’d already had sex twice in the last hour, he was still sensitive enough to luxuriate in the sensation. He never thought he’d be here, with Bonnie wrapped around him, and he wondered if maybe this was it: this was how fate was going to kill him, because he’d wake up tomorrow and she’d be gone, this whole day just a dream – or that she’d rethought her position on giving this a go and had decided, no, not really, Damon just wasn’t worth the trouble.

“This is going a lot better than that other time I turned,” he told her, and felt Bonnie shake with laughter beneath him. “No, legitimately. I think this time has slightly improved.”

“Slightly?” Bonnie repeated, and gave him a small shove against his shoulder. Damon barely budged, content right where he was. “C’mon, we can’t stay here all day. We’ve got—”

“The world won’t end if we stay in bed for one day.”

“The world might not end, but I'm getting  _sore_.”

The made Damon tense – just slightly. He was starting to get most of his urges under control, but the proximity of Bonnie and his rapidly adjusting body was still a thing that needed to be kept in check. He hadn’t thought he’d hurt her, but—

“Relax,” Bonnie said, quickly, dismissively, “It isn’t that bad. Just…  _soreness._  Pleasant soreness, even.”

He didn’t know if she was just saying that to make him feel better. 

Bonnie stretched out to reach for the phone, calling up room service again and he frowned when all she ordered was a soup and salad for herself, and he threw a glace at the clock. It was almost seven in the evening, and fuck, where the hell had the day gone? He scrubbed a hand through his hair as he listened to Bonnie order something else off memory from the menu, and the entire time she was tracing an illusive pattern across his back with her fingertips.

She hung up, and his frown was still in place. “Move for a bit,” she asked him, and then wiggled a little beneath him to get him to comply, and she could be trying to kill him, potentially, because he was getting hard again, and he was already exhausted. “C’mon, Damon, I need to stretch my legs.”

“Stretch ‘em in bed,” he protested, but she finally just jostled him off her, and he was whining, “Jeeze, be gentle. My good looks easily scar – oh, wait, no they don’t. Be as rough as you want, baby.”

Bonnie rolled her eyes and left the room, returning a few minutes later cleaned up a little, hair tied back in a sloppy ponytail and wearing his shirt again. Christ, he was going to have to get a drawer full of his shirts just for her to wear, because the woman had fantastic legs and firm little ass that showed off perfectly with what she was wearing. Bonnie reached out and retrieved her laptop from the corner table, which she unfolded and laid out on the mattress, sitting down again Indian-style so that Damon could spy the pink panties she now had on.

He glared at the laptop. “What email is so urgent that you have to check up on it  _now_?”

“It’s from Elena,” Bonnie answered, and she had on her Serious Discussion face, which decidedly put a halt to any sexy-times he had been hoping to continue in a few minutes. “She sent me the information she dug up on Felicia’s family. I want to see something.”

The mention of the old hag that had returned Damon to his old vampire days sent his mood crashing, and Damon frowned again, moving up. He kept his distractions to a minimum as Bonnie sat reading for a few minutes, only going so far as to trace illusive patterns with his fingertips across her legs – which she stopped by slapping his hand as soon as he started creeping northward of her inner thigh. With an overdramatic sigh, Damon folded his hands behind his head and only half-read the link over Bonnie’s shoulders, using his enhanced vampire eye-sight to pick up the tiny text while looking disinterested from the other end of the bed.

“Her full name is Felicia Heritage.”

Damon shrugged. “Never heard of the Heritage witches. Guess they’re not as famous as the Bennett ones.”

“Stop flattering me. I’ve already slept with you.”

“Just being honest, baby—”

“ _Stop_  with the nicknames, already.”

“Oh, but snookums.”

She glared at him. “I will mention your excessive need for cuddling to every guy within earshot if you ever call me that again.” She paused. “I’ll even call up Alaric, specifically.”

He raised his hands in feigned-surrender.

Bonnie went back to reading again, and Damon wiled away the minutes by staring up at the ceiling and contemplating potential comebacks for the next time Bonnie threatened to blackmail him again, and figured he could just play dirty by going down on her. That would shut her up.

It was sorta fun, playing one-ups-man with Bonnie so much. Kept things interesting, especially in the bedroom.

“God,” Bonnie said, suddenly, sounding ill. “Felicia's entire family was killed a few months back. Her two daughters, and three grandchildren. The youngest was seven.”

Damon sat up a little. “Guess that explains the crazy.”

But Bonnie froze, and over the lifebond he felt something shift. He couldn't have named it, beyond a collection of feelings that accompanied a shift in the way Bonnie held herself: spine stiffening, a slight thinning of lips, her eyes darkening and a lift of her chin; they were insignificant changes to her posture, but it was a little shocking how attuned Damon was to her now. The connection was handy when he’d been using this heightened awareness of her for sex not so recently, but it was different when she was being serious and the mood was infectious.

He straightened up a little more, looking at her. “What is it?”

Bonnie simply turned the laptop so that he could see for himself. “My mother,” she told him, and pointed to a picture of a crime-scene that had been snapped by the local newspaper. In the background, among the spectators, Damon could make out Bethany Bennett standing unobtrusively to the left, looking away as a camera flashed a quick picture of her. “She was there, Damon. She was there when Felicia’s family died.”

Damon had the sinking feeling he knew why.  _No wonder the crazy bitch hated us so much. Bethany had been responsible for the massacre of Felicia’s entire family._

Bonnie looked ill, and started moving past article after article, quickly scanning the news for anymore information that could hint at her mother’s involvement. 

“I should have known,” Bonnie admitted to him, lowly, angrily. “I should have known the second Felicia mentioned something about my mother. My mother is just, god, she’s bad news.”

Damon couldn’t argue with that, though he disliked seeing Bonnie work herself up like this for things outside her control. It didn’t take someone with a lifebond connection to her to see that Bonnie had an inflated sense of responsibility and shouldered the weight of her mother’s offenses through some silly mother-daughter complex. He almost voiced the observation, but he liked getting laid, thank you very much.

“Okay,” he said, closing the laptop almost on her fingers. “Get dressed. We’re going out.”

“Where?” she asked. “You think we should go back to Felicia’s again—”

“Fuck, no,” Damon cut in, incredulous. “I was thinking sushi or some Italian place. Look, Bonnie, we can’t change history, and Felicia is not someone that we can talk around.  _Bitch is crazy,_ ” he mocked, but was entirely serious about it at the same time. “A woman like that has nothing left to lose, and we’ve already established she’s plain scary.”

“She thinks I’m like my mother,” Bonnie protested. “If I could convince her that I’m not—”

“You try and it’ll end badly,” Damon warned, suddenly entirely unamused. Her naïve idealism was shocking at times. “Damn it, Bonnie. Listen to me. You can’t fix everything. In this world, you try that and you just screw things up worse.”

Bonnie jerked away from him and padded across the room, barefoot and agitated. If he focused enough, he found he could pick up a whisper of something, _Can’t believe she did that. Never wanted to know my mother was a killer. Never wanted any of this. God, did I ever know her at all?_  He jerked back, shocked to discover that the lifebond had evolved to include thoughts as well as her emotions now.

Something must’ve registered on his face, because Bonnie stopped pacing to eye him. “What is it?”

Clearing his throat, Damon deflected, “C’mon, I was serious about having dinner outside. I’m getting tired of room service.”

Bonnie was silent for a beat, though she rolled her shoulders and seemed to forcefully relax herself. “Where do you wanna go?”

“We’re in New York City, Bonnie. We’ll find a place. There’s a good hot dog joint around every corner—”

“Funny,” she remarked, dryly. “I’ve never been to New York before. You’re showing me a good time, you hear?”

“I thought that’s what I’d been doing all day,” he protested in a haughty voice. “I didn’t hear any complaints, and trust me, you were being pretty vocal.”

As she walked towards the bathroom, Bonnie threw him a glare over his shoulder. “God, you are such a cocky son of a bitch.”

“Yeah, but I put it to good use!” he tossed back, grinning.

The door slammed shut, and a second later Damon reached over to grab his phone off the nightstand. Apparently he had four missed calls and two text messages from his brother, all anxiously asking after Damon’s well-being with a typical broodish manner of Stefan-like concern. Damon remembered all too well the way his brother had beaten himself up over the decision to hand over his blood, and now Damon was a vampire for an entirely other reason. A normal person would’ve taken that chance to absolve themselves of all issues of guilt, but Stefan was extra special that way. He was probably still shamefaced over the decision. Scooting up a little in bed, Damon flipped over and rested his elbows on the pillow, thinking for a moment before he began to type out,  _“Relax, lit bro, doing fine. Am too busy sexing Bonnie to respond. TTYL._ " He hit send with a grin, almost wishing he could see Stefan’s face when he got the text. 

About a minute later, he finally got Stefan’s response: " _Ass. Just take care and tell Bonnie I’m disappointed in her tastes._ "

With a snort, Damon typed back: " _Luv u 2, baby bro._ "

* * *

It wasn’t until later that Bonnie realized she’d essentially agreed to her first date with Damon Salvatore, and wondered how the universe had taken such unexpected turns that it had landed her at this stage in her life. She tried not to think about her problems; she tried to shut out all thoughts of her mother and Mystic Falls and the Coven and Felicia’s dead family and Damon’s curse and his lifebond and, well, all her other issues that just kept compounding every time she blinked. She deserved a night off, right? 

She spent over an hour and a half getting dressed in Damon’s bathroom, legitimately surprised when he hadn’t complained or rushed her out the door. He wasn’t telling her where they were headed, but he’d hinted enough that she figured something chic and simple would do: skinny black pants and a dark green halter-top. She left her hair down in tight iron-induced curls, and finished off the look with some knee-length black boots with enough heel to make up some of the height difference between her and Damon, though not enough. If she had to walk anywhere tonight, her feet were going to kill her.

It felt a little reckless, to be honest, to be enjoying an evening out when they had more pressing issues, but Damon had been quick to point out that their problems would keep until morning and they hadn’t had a fun night since the entire mess with her mother began. It wasn’t until they were leaving the room, and Damon was ushering her out the door with a hand on the small of her back, that Bonnie felt her true misgivings arise, but she simply took a deep breath and promised herself she’d enjoyed the night. Bonnie Bennett having fun surely wasn’t one of the signs of the apocalypse, right?

The restaurant was expensive and dimly lit, the tables curled into a maze in dark buttery leather and red. Damon untucked her chair for her, and that was something she was going to have to get used to, because she was beginning to realize that whatever this was, some old forms of courtship were still embedded in Damon’s DNA. She’d seen him rip out a man’s throat with three fingers, and it was a little challenging to come to terms with the fact that he could be infinitely gentle when he wanted. Bonnie felt like it was just another sign that she’d gotten herself into something she didn’t know how to define, and it freaked her out a little.

Damon would never stop being full of contradictions, would he?

So, Bonnie sat opposite of him in an expensive restaurant and searched down a menu she couldn’t afford to pay by herself until at least another decade of working. He looked utterly at ease in this joint, leaning back causally in dark slacks, a shirt that hung open at the collar, and Bonnie figured that the hollow of his throat was enough to distract any woman in the near vicinity away from the fact that Bonnie was adorning a small bite mark on her own, messily covered up with heavy concealer. He ordered wine without glancing at the menu, and spoke to the waiter in perfect Italian, and he wasn’t putting on a show – she knew that because he must’ve done this a thousand times before – but the entire time Bonnie kept her bout of anxiety locked up tight.

The biggest complication of spending the entire day in his bed was her body's soreness, a tight pinch in her muscles and a small bruise forming over her left thigh where at one point he'd held her down with a little too much enthusiasm. Bonnie wondered what it said about her that she was more comfortable with chaos and that type of intensity than she was with a simple date out.

Damon leaned back in his chair. "All right, new rule," he said, gamely. "No talking about anything to do with Mystic Falls or crazy witches. Deal?”

Bonnie frowned.  _What the hell were they going to talk about, then? The weather?_

“Elena says you're finishing your dissertation this year,” Damon tried, “How's that going?" Bonnie snorted, and took a sip of her wine. Damon raised his eyebrows. "Bad topic?" 

She shook her head. "No, not really," she told him, and sat the glass down, running her thumb over the lip. "It's all really pretty much done, at this point-- I just have all the editing and defense crap to go through, now. If my advisor okays the revisions, I should be done with my defense by this January."

“What’s the topic?”

Bonnie paused. “Methodological Naturalism and the Supernatural in the 21st Century, with an emphasis on Witchcraft Lore in Eastern US.”

Damon snorted. “Figured, it would be something like that.”

“It’s what my Grams was teaching to her grad students,” Bonnie defended herself. “Seemed like something I wanted to continue.”

“Family tradition,” Damon supplied with a roll of his eyes. “Being a Bennett is like a call to arms for you people, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah, like you have any leg to stand on. You and Stefan carry on the fine name of the Salvatores in high esteem.”

“Is that sarcasm I detect?” One corner of Damon's mouth went crooked. “Are you implying something about the way my brother and I have conducted ourselves these last few centuries?”

“You mean, aside from that unfortunate thing with Katherine and your century and a half streak of killings?” Bonnie leaned back in her chair. “You were model Mystic Fall citizens.”

Damon was staring at her, eyes hooded under a false brim of amusement, but she knew him too well and they’d stumbled across a serious topic even in the midst of trying to avoid it. Damon was still trying to control his baser instincts – Bonnie knew that. He was a newly turned vampire again, and everything she’d ever known about vampires told her this period was like a druggie’s first rush of addiction; it needed to be kept in check, and even though she was all-in now, fully willing to give this relationship a go no matter how crazy it seemed, she wasn’t going to do it blindly.

There was faith that everything would work out fine, and then there was working at it. Bonnie had always prescribed to the latter school of philosophy.

"Is that what you want?" he asked, changing the topic right back. "Academia? Tenure?"

In some ways, Bonnie could understand the disbelief in his voice: She had spent so much of her life dealing with baddies and honing her witchcraft into a fine art; academic work was hardly as engaging. Bonnie had this idealized version of the future, where she would be the sort of professor who the students all respected – tough but interesting, and with enough experience to know firsthand what she was lecturing about.

But it was such a…  _dream_ , and lately Bonnie was reminded her life was more like a nightmare than anything else. 

"Maybe," she answered, folding her napkin over her lap. "Funny thing is, I do miss Mystic Falls, even now. It’s screwed up and dangerous and I sometimes wish the Earth would swallow it up whole, but it’s… it’s still home, y’know?"

Damon tipped her a nod with an imaginary cowboy hat. “Trust me. I know. I’ve tried putting that town in my rearview mirror for nearly two hundred years, and I keep coming back. Fucking glutton for punishment, I guess.”

“That makes two of us.”

Ten minutes in, and they’d already violated their no-talking-about-Mystic-Falls rule.

The waitress came by eventually, interrupting the flow of the conversation to serve their food. Bonnie watched as Damon made small-talk with the waitress, and it was a little droll how shamelessly he flirted right in front of her. Bonnie just watched, tipping him an eyebrow up because she knew exactly what he was doing – and no, she wasn’t playing that game. They’d been sleeping together for less than a day, and she was not going to give him the satisfaction of showing even a hint of jealousy. Damon Salvatore was  _Damon Salvatore_ , and if she expected him to stop flirting with everything with a double-X chromosome, she’d gotten into this relationship with blinders on.

Still, it was a little annoying – not that she’d ever tell him that, not yet.

“Tell me something,” he said, after the waitress had left. “Why did you leave Mystic Falls in the first place?”

He asked her this over a steaming plate of pasta and butter rolls, like it was an everyday conversation rather than a particularly thorny one. “You know why,” she told him. “Everybody knows why.”

Her father’s death had been the final straw, a devastating blow that Bonnie wasn’t sure she’d recovered from, even now.

Damon flashed a smirk, and shook his head like he wasn’t buying it. “It was something else,” he drawled out, “Something you’re not telling me.”

“You’re right. You’ve caught me red-handed, Damon. I was madly in love with you back then, and the sight of you fawning over Elena drove me right out of Mystic Falls.” She paused, dramatically, and lifted her voice in feigned-surprise. “Oh, no, wait. That would only be in your little fantasy world where the entire universe revolves around you.”

“You mean it doesn’t?” he quipped back, idly. He stretched an arm across the back of his booth. “I’ve been lied to all these years?”

Bonnie rolled her eyes. “Damon, there was no ulterior motive. I was grief-stricken, and that town had taken enough from me. Too much.”

“And you left Jeremy pretty high and dry,” he remarked dryly.

Bonnie hid a flinch, because she couldn’t deny that. “Yeah, I did.”

It wasn’t her finest hour, and Bonnie would give almost anything to have handled it better, with a touch more grace, but several years later Bonnie could look back and see the moment with wiser eyes; her leaving had been something building underneath her skin for months, and with her father’s demise, she’d just  _snapped_. Just broke down and had a massive crisis of identity and life – and everybody else had become so accustomed to reliable Bonnie, steadfast and strong Bonnie – it came as a rude shock that she was just as screwed up as the rest of them, capable of being broken. She’d dropped her entire life like it was nothing more than a ton of bricks, too heavy and weighted for her to handle anymore. That had included both responsibilities and the people in it.

Again, not her finest hour. Though when she looked back at Damon, she wondered at his motivation behind asking after it. Was he fishing around for her committment phobia, or what? 

“Enjoying the evening?” the maitre d' asked, swinging by their table.

“Oh, yeah,” Damon answered, twisting the words wryly. “It’s turning out to be a fun night.”

Bonnie winched. She’d gone out with the intentions of letting loose, but somehow in the span of the first hour they’d unpacked a whole host of issues and messy complications. What was wrong with them? Were they  _trying_  to sabotage this date? It had always been hard for her to cut loose and relax, but this was ridiculous.

Damon ordered more wine, and Bonnie heartily refilled her glass.

* * *

After dinner, they strolled through the city streets and Bonnie was greatly regretting her choice in footwear. She had no idea where they were headed, but the silence between them had settled in, heavy – and she wasn’t going to break it. About ten minutes later, Damon let his hand drift to his favorite spot at the small of her back and guided her around the corner. There was some club at the end, one with a bouncer and a small line of people that wound around a red rope. Damon nodded his head at her, gesturing, and after a beat, she agreed to try it out.

A few people ahead of them were turned away, but Damon and Bonnie made it in with no qualms. She might’ve thought Damon had compelled the bouncer or bribed him, but the heavy-weight guy had spent the majority of his time staring down Bonnie’s cleavage that she didn’t need to guess at his motivations. When they made it inside and down a lone corridor, she looked over, surprised, to find Damon’s jaw was set in a thin and hard line, angry.

“What is it?”

“Should go wring that bouncer’s neck,” he muttered under his breath, and he looked entirely too serious about the threat. She stared at him, incredulous. “Oh, what?” Damon threw back. “Like the fact I don’t want every asshole staring at your breasts is somehow coming as a surprise?”

Bonnie stopped to think about it for a second, and realized – no, it didn’t really surprise her at all. She didn’t need him starting a brawl over some misguided sense of territorialism, though. Damon being jealous was not a tradition she wanted to encourage, especially with his current impulse control.

“I can handle myself just fine,” she said, and tugged him down the corridor and away from any messy potential.

Their conversation quickly got lost as they entered the club, music pounding. Strobes of light flashed across the dance floor, and the place must’ve had three hundred, maybe four hundred people, easily. It looked almost like a mosh pit. It wasn’t Bonnie’s normal scene, but the music was good, upbeat and fast – and maybe something mindless was just what they needed right now.

She bypassed the bar and tugged him onto the dance floor, and Damon followed her willingly. She found a spot near the center, just underneath a strobbing yellow light, and Bonnie let him swing her around and catch her by the waist. He pulled her close, and Bonnie draped her arms over his shoulders, thinking, _yes, this was much better way to go with the night._  Physical things, they seemed to handle just fine. It was navigating around all the other territory in their new relationship that would take a little getting used to.

The music was loud and pounding, and the crowd around her was a little too close for her comfort, but Damon kept her closer. She idly wondered how many times he’d visited a scene like this, and how much it’d changed from the stiff and formal dances they had back when he’d been her age. Bonnie locked her eyes with his, and grinned when he spun her around and dipped her, then brought her back up, settling his hands low on her ass. He squeezed once, and she narrowed her eyes at him, warning him off from any funny business.

Damon responded by trying to look innocent, which, of course, just wound up with him looking twice as guilty.

“Y’know,” he spoke into her ear, over the loud music, “I always liked watching you dance.”

Bonnie threw him a look, one eyebrow lifted. “Why does that sound vaguely stalkerish?”

“’Cause it totally was,” Damon answered, unabashed. “You were cute back then, in all those parties and those annoying high school dances. I liked watching you.”

“Perv,” she mocked. “I was, like, seventeen.”

“Your point?” he waved a hand, doing that exaggerated thing with his eyebrows. “You acted like you were twenty-something anyway. Nobody would’ve guessed if you came stumbling out of hotel room one morning with me by your side.”

“In your dreams,” Bonnie replied. “Back then, I had fantasies about setting your ass on fire.”

“Foreplay,” Damon responded lightly. “I like to think of all that as a really long, really extended, particularly twisted version of foreplay.”

Bonnie laughed, then rested her cheek against his shoulders as he moved them about their little corner of the dance floor. God, Mystic Falls and its parties – from Tyler Lockwood’s keggers, to the Masquerade balls and the Founder’s Day celebration, to the high school dances with all those ridiculous themes – and her senior prom. God, she loved her senior prom. And Damon had been there for almost all of them, despite being, oh say, 150 years too old to attend half of them without standing out like a sore thumb. It was funny how no one noticed or was bothered by his presence, and Bonnie had always been a little disconcerted that no one else could notice such an obvious predator among their high school dances.

Bonnie had been watching Damon, too, though probably with a different motive than the one that Damon had. Back then, she hadn’t trusted him much – and with good reason, too. She wouldn’t have touched him with a ten-foot poll, unless said poll was used in beating him half-unconscious. The Damon that had his arms around her now looked exactly the same, but Bonnie knew the difference. Somewhere along the way, in the last decade, he’d rediscovered his human side and it had been a long road – full of more false-starts than Bonnie could even guess at – but he’d finally found his way.

In some respects, he was back to square one again, a vampire going through his freshman days – but Bonnie could already tell the difference in him. It wouldn’t be like before. For one, Damon had learned some hard lessons in humanity; Bonnie knew that because she’d watched him stumble along the way, sometimes painfully aware of his fight against his own shortcomings. But just as revealing to Bonnie, she realized she wasn’t going to let him go through this transition all alone again, and god, how had she made such a commitment? When had she even decided on that? It was all like some slippery slope, and she couldn’t even remember how it had all transitioned.

Except – wait, that wasn’t true.

“You remember that night I died?” she asked him, “Where I fake-died because of Klaus?”

“The sixties theme dance,” Damon answered, sourly. “Yeah, kinda hard to forget.”

She looked up at him. “That was the first night I stopped hating you.”

He stilled for a beat, then looked down at her. “You and your romantic declarations.”

“I’m serious,” she told him. “Before then, I was still holding onto some grudge, some anger against you for… a lot of things. But I remember our dance—”

“How could you forget?” Damon teased back. “I must’ve felt you up at least three times.”

She slapped him on the shoulder, then paused, playing along, “I recall only twice.”

“My hands were sneaky,” Damon informed her, “and you probably didn’t even realize I spent half the time staring down your dress.”

“Oh, I noticed. I just let it slid.”

“How magnanimous of you. You  _liked_  my attention – even back then, and you know it.”

“I like to think I just was too busy looking out for Klaus to set your ass on fire.”

“You and fire,” Damon said, sighing. “Why is that always your default threat? Little crazy pyromaniac witch.” He laughed a little, leaning into whisper into her hair, “ _My_  little crazy pyromaniac witch.”

How he managed to make that sound like such an endearment, she’d never know.

He tugged her forward for a kiss, and Bonnie wrapped her hands around his neck, shifting from foot-to-foot, swaying with the music mindlessly until Damon managed to take over her entire focus with that kiss and she stopped swaying all together. His hands splayed across her back, low enough that she could feel him at the edge of her shirt and near indecent territory. He was moving her before she realized it, step by step towards some direction behind her, and when she finally broke off the kiss, it was to discover they were near the outer edge of the crowd. Damon kept backtracking her until she turned around and led the way, and they got off the dance floor to one of the side corridors near an emergency exit. 

A few people were still milling around, but Damon ignored them, pushing Bonnie against a wall and kissing her again, this time rather senseless. But she was not going to make out with Damon in a public area. It didn’t matter that they were in a joint were such PDA was common and even expected. She wasn’t that type of girl. She wasn’t.

Was she?

No, her mind reasserted itself. She wasn’t. 

“Whoa,” she breathed, pushing him back, “Okay, down boy. We aren’t doing this in public.”

“There’s a back alley exit right over—”

“ _No._ ”

Damon let out a disgruntled sigh like her refusing to make out with him like some hormone-driven teenager was somehow unsportsmanlike of her. They pulled apart, though Damon stuck close by her side for a full minute as they lounged in that quiet corner while the music to the next song played out. Bonnie swayed silently to the rhythm, feeling the sturdy build of Damon behind her, who had his arms wrapped around her torso. He leaned forward to whisper, _tease_ , and Bonnie just shifted her hips a little to the right and got a quiet grunt of surprise from Damon. 

“ _Evil_  tease,” Damon amended.

She smiled. “You have no idea.”

* * *

Bonnie was starting to get tired of the techno when the music ended, just for a beat, and a slower song took up. “Bonnie,” came another voice, lower, masculine; her head shot up to find Ethan standing behind them, flanked by what looked like two vampires, and the entire night suddenly shifted into something else entirely. “Glad I finally caught up with you.”

“What—” Bonnie began, but Damon made to move and one of the vamps brought out a girl as hostage.

“Don’t,” Ethan warned, calmly, while the girl looked stunned and scared, face wet with tears. “So many innocents in this club. So many ways in which this could go wrong for you. Play by our rules, and no one here gets hurt.”

Damon put his game-face on. “Kill her,” he said, blithely, “and you’ll end up just as dead.”

“Damon,” Bonnie said quietly, because she wasn’t willing to take that risk, and Ethan knew it by the smile on his face. 

Ethan looked different, more strained than the last time she’d seen him standing by her mother’s side, in that Tomb just before they’d discovered Stefan’s dead body. He had an ugly scar now, still slightly red and angry in its rawness. She wanted to congratulate the person that had put it there because from everything Jeremy had told her, Ethan was hellbent on turning Bonnie into a vampire for unfathomable reasons – and now he’d brought along two vampires as an entourage. Bonnie didn’t need to be told this was amounting to a bad equation.

The female vampire was one Bonnie recognized from that night Ben had died, the one Jeremy said was over two hundred years old, named Maggie. She wore a chic red jacket and miniskirt, and she still sported that same protective tattoo that prevented Bonnie from inflicting her aneurism spell. They all did, it seemed – though Bonnie felt the presence of some other spell in the air, one that mucked with her senses a little. 

The male vampire with the hostage looked built like a tank, a weightlifter. Bonnie got a closer look at the captive, and the girl had purple contacts, the type that looked ridiculous and exotic, but perfect for a club-atmosphere like this. The effect was ruined by the stark fear apparent in her eyes, and Bonnie saw blood on the girl’s neck. They hadn’t even compelled the girl into compliance; she was alert and awake through all of it. 

Bonnie’s face hardened. “What do you want?”

“Just to have a word in private,” Ethan answered.

He gestured for her to follow him towards the staircase. Bonnie looked up one level, near the rafters where the private VIP room was apparently reserved for them, and then at Ethan and his backup of vampires. She felt Damon lean towards her, and wondered what he was thinking. She knew this was a trap, but she couldn’t think of a way out of this that wouldn’t end in that innocent girl’s death; Bonnie couldn’t afford that.

As if reading her mind, Damon squeezed her arm and then stepped forward. “Let the girl go, and then we’ll talk.”

“We’ll talk first,” Ethan countered. “No negotiations on this. We just want to talk and then everyone will go free. I can explain away  _every_  question you’ve ever had, every burning curiosity answered. How does that sound?”

Like it was too good to be true.

“Leave your vampires down here,” Bonnie insisted, because no way was she going up into a secluded room with two dangerous vampires willingly, even with Damon as backup.

“If you leave yours,” Ethan agreed.

Damon stiffened. “Like hell.”

Ethan ignored him, addressing only Bonnie. "C'mon, precious, we both know how this is going to play out with so many vampires in one place. Let's avoid that. Let's just talk, you and me."

After a beat, Bonnie tilted her head to look up at Damon, and said very quietly, “I can handle this.”

Damon flashed her a look of pure incredulity, but Bonnie kept firm, willing him to understand – to heed her request. If there was ever a time to use their lifebond to their advantage, now was it.  _I can handle Ethan. The man had half the power of my mother and a fraction of mine. Divide and conquer, and maybe we could get out of this alive and with a few less enemies._  Something of her message must’ve gotten through, either her direct thoughts or the emotion behind them, because Damon’s face cleared with understanding. 

Damon breathed in and out through his nose, jaw clenched, chewing on his aggression, and then said, “Fine.”

He let her go, reluctantly. Bonnie offered him a small nod, hoping it would convey her thanks in some measure, but he just kept staring with an intense expression that told her he just hoped she knew what she was doing. 

“I’ll take some insurance with me,” Ethan said, and the vamp handed off the purple-eyed girl to him. 

There were still plenty of other potential victims around, so Bonnie looked to Damon again and silently pleaded with him to play nice – but not too nice – and left to follow Ethan up the stairs. The purple-eyed girl led the way, sniffling in fear, but rather quietly like she knew it was probably best for her not to draw too much attention to herself. Bonnie felt her stomach cave-in; the girl couldn’t have been more than seventeen, maybe eighteen years old. Too young to make it into a club like this, much less land herself in the middle of this type of shady supernatural meeting.

Bonnie didn’t see her mother, but that didn’t mean Bethany wasn’t nearby somewhere. A part of her was expecting to find her mother lounging in the VIP room, waiting for Bonnie's arrival, but when the group finally stepped through the doors, the place was vacant. Ethan pushed the purple-eyed girl into the corner where she crumbled at the knees and huddled into a pile, scared shitless. Bonnie tried to send a reassuring nod, but the girl had her head down, arms wrapped around her body, rocking back and forth and muttering something to herself that Bonnie couldn’t make out. It sounded like,  _This isn’t real. This isn’t real. This isn’t real,_  over and over again. Bonnie winced in sympathy. She remembered being that young and feeling way in over her head, caught in the middle of violent vampire affairs. Her world had never been the same after that.

“Well,” Ethan said, and uncorked a bottle of whiskey. “Drink?”

Bonnie stared him down. “So, you said something about answers?”

“That, I did. I feel like we got off on the wrong foot, so let me make it up to you by offering an olive branch. What do you want to know?”

“First, why the hell would I trust anything you have to say.”

“I never wanted you as my enemy.”

Bonnie glared, incredulous. “You kidnapped my friends, killed Stefan, sent a werewolf after Ben, and tried to turn me into a vampire.”

“Don’t forget that I also had something to do with turning Jeremy into a vampire,” Ethan added, wryly, then looked through the plate glass window that blocked off one side of the room, where down below, the view showcased the entire lower floor of the dance club. They could see Damon and the other two vampires sharing what looked like an interesting conversation, and Damon seemed to be holding his own just fine, flashing a wide, arrogant arc with his hands like he was goading the vamps to come and rush him. “Although, it seems, you’ve found a way to reverse that.”

“I’m powerful,” Bonnie taunted. “Or haven’t you heard?”

Ethan flashed a smirk. “I’ve heard, but nice try, little Bennett. I know it wasn’t you that reversed the Spell of Undoing. I know you’ve been to see the local witch here, Felicia Heritage.”

The name brought Bonnie up short, and she suddenly realized something. It wasn’t Bethany that had killed Felicia’s family, but this man standing in front of her. She couldn’t say what gave her the insight, but Bonnie was suddenly sure of it.

Unaware of her little epiphany, Ethan continued, “I know everything you’ve been doing for the last three weeks, since the moment you stepped foot back onto Mystic Falls. I made it my business to know. Mazeltov, by the way, on consummating your lifebond with Damon. You have no idea what you’ve just done, but it’ll be amusing to watch it all unfold.”

Bonnie stiffened despite herself, sickened by the idea she’d been watched over this entire time, and furthermore by the proof he offered up to support it. If he knew about Felicia, and about Damon and Jeremy’s reversal, about her lifebond, what else did he know? Clearly, Bonnie knew, more than any amount that was comforting.

“I came here because I wanted a truce,” Ethan said. “One time offer, take it or leave it. I have no beef with you anymore. I don’t see why we can’t play nicely, then.”

“Do I need to repeat the list of offenses again? Kidnapping, killing, trying to turn me into a vamp? Ring any bells, or do you have a short term memory problem?”

“Stefan lives again, doesn’t he? And it was unfortunate what happened to your friend Ben, but let’s face it, his time was numbered anyway. He helped you with the Spell of Undoing, right? Reports indicate that the rest of the Coven members are still comatose and dying, so likelihood would’ve been, even if he hadn’t become puppy-chow, he wouldn’t have ended up in a good spot.”

Bonnie was starting to feel like maybe she needed that drink after all. “You know about the Coven?”

Ethan snorted. “Pay attention, little girl. I know  _everything_. Of course the Coven suffered from consequences in helping you out. You were foolish to go to them in the first place.”

She couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Is there any way to save them?”

He smiled. “Well, yes, but that would require your death.”

Bonnie paused, and said, slowly, “My death?”

“You are the main target.” Ethan shrugged. “When you shucked off the consequences, it rebounded onto them. If you die, the consequences will fall away and your little Wiccan friends will awaken. Simple, yet effective. So, please, if you feel an egregious amount of guilt over the issue, you know what to do now.”

“Thanks,” Bonnie volleyed back, “But I won’t take your word for it. Nothing personal, but I think you’re a lying piece of shit.”

Ethan laughed and offered another shrug. “Whatever. I’m not here to give you tips on performing spells. That truce we were talking about? How about we talk details? I think an alliance would work to both our benefits.”

“How about we talk about the fact that you want me as a vampire,” Bonnie said instead. “Or what you’ve been doing with my mother. Or, hell, where  _is_  my mother?”

Ethan smiled, and seemed to take her questions in whatever order he saw fit. “I have been working with your mother for a while now. We have –  _had_ , anyway – a symbiotic relationship until recently.” He rubbed awkwardly at his chin, where the scar was still red and puckering, and Bonnie realized Bethany had been the one to give it to him. “We had a falling-out, of sorts.”

“Lover’s spat?” Bonnie quipped.

“Yes,” Ethan answered bluntly, and Bonnie felt the blow of that like a sucker punch. It didn’t matter, she didn’t know why she cared, but in the silent wake of the second that followed after, Bonnie couldn’t help but compare Ethan to her father, and her father was ten times the man that Ethan could ever be. Her mother’s tastes were sliding downhill. “She had a problem, apparently,” Ethan continued, wryly, “with me sending certain vampires after you. I wasn’t expecting her to find out, but your mother – oh, she can be clever when she wants to be. But you see, I wanted you to turn for precisely the same reason I have worked with your mother. The Spell of Undoing.”

“Come again?”

Ethan poured himself a glass of whiskey, dropping in a few ice-cubs with a splash. “Your mother is a powerful clairvoyant, better than anyone else I’ve ever seen. When you were six, she had a vision. In it, you were a vampire.”

Bonnie was getting a little tired of having that prediction thrown in her face. “And?”

“And she dedicated the rest of her life to finding out a way to prevent that from happening,” Ethan answered. “When it seemed likely that prevention would fail, she quickly moved onto a new plan.  _Curing_  vampirism. Hence, the Spell of Undoing.”

She stared, unbelieving. “Bullshit. You expect me to believe my mother has done all of this out of some misguided sense of protection?”

“Don’t look so shocked. You don’t know your mother at all, and she’s a lot like you. Stubborn, independent, willing to do anything to save the people she loves. In another life, one without your new lover, you would have turned out just like her. Just as stubborn, just as ruthless, and just as distrusting of vampires. Or didn’t you get the memo from your late Grams? Bennett witches don’t usually take to vampires as fondly as you have.”

She refused to flush with embarrassment, but Ethan’s mark was a little too close to home for Bonnie’s comfort. He was right, of course. Bonnie was all to aware that if things had gone down just a little differently in her past, she might’ve ended up alongside her mother’s kind, or Felicia Heritage’s kind – a stubborn, judgmental witch. Damon had always called her that, ever since she was sixteen years old, but the truth was she’d shed a lot of her prejudices long ago because holding onto them had become futile. Vampires like Stefan, Caroline, and eventually Damon – they’d shown her the holes in any system based on such stark black-and-white rules. 

“And, yes,” Ethan added, seeing his mark land, “you, little Bennett, she loves you above all else. Bethany dedicated her entire life to making sure that when the day comes, you’ll be cured of your disease.”

“I’m  _not_  going to become a vampire.”

“Of course, of course.” Ethan waved the topic away, like it was of no-consequence anymore. “But it motivated her, and I liked that. I needed to keep her motivated, hence the unfortunate incident back in the Lockwood Estate a few weeks ago. Apologies, but you understand? If you had turned vampire then, then your mother would’ve been a little more eager to finish refining the spell.”

“Refining the spell?”

The corner of Ethan’s mouth curled down into a frown. “The consequences, my dear girl. No one likes those much. Your mother spent the better part of the last decade tracking down the specific ingredients needed for the Spell of Undoing, and figuring out how to channel the consequences effectively. Damn near figured out how to do it without  _any_  consequences, and what a glorious thing that is.” 

Bonnie was on information overload. From the sounds of it, her mother was looking like a pawn, like some misguided witch in a game that was orchestrated entirely by other players, players like Ethan. And Ethan seemed unabashed in his role, too; admitting to his slight of hand and backstabbing like it was just a small notation in his daily dealings. If what he was saying was true, it was no wonder he’d had a falling out with her mother. 

“Why are you telling me all of this?” she asked.

“Because I don’t need you as a vampire anymore, and therefore I really don’t want you as an enemy anymore. The world is big enough for all of us. Leave me alone, don’t go pressing your nose into any business of mine – and I won’t bother with you ever again. Everybody wins. Drinks all around.”

“Yeah, call me a skeptical bitch, but you’re not making much of an argument here to trust you.”

“Why? I’ve told you everything you’ve ever wanted to know. I’m giving you all the answers wrapped up in a neat little bow, and they’re all true. Every last sentence I’ve said, honest to god, the truth. I have no reason to lie, anymore.”

“And why’s that?”

“I’ve decided there are some things in this world that aren’t worth my death,” Ethan answered. “The Spell of Undoing is too volatile. I want out, but also don’t want bad blood between me and – shall we say – very powerful and self-righteous witches. I like to settle my disputes with expediency. Let’s work something out.”

Somehow, Bonnie mused wryly, she remained entirely unconvinced. 

The Spell of Undoing had so much potential. Unlimited potential. It wasn’t just about turning vampires into humans and vise-versa. The possibilities were endless. And if it could be done without consequences? It was pure, unadulterated power. All the more reason to make sure that it never fell into the hands of people like Ethan and, yes, even her mother. Justified reasons or not, Bethany had gone about this all wrong. Bonnie couldn’t overlook that.

Bonnie looked to the window again, spying Damon, and thought about shifting this into gunboat diplomacy—

The purple-eyed girl cried out as if struck, and Bonnie whirled, almost having forgot about her presence. It looked like Ethan had done something to her when Bonnie’s back had been turned, a quiet reminder that there was another pawn in his game if Bonnie decided to go off script with the meeting. Without knowing precisely what spell he was using on the girl, Bonnie couldn’t guarantee any protection.

Reluctantly, she stepped back and smiled. “So, what? My mom kick you to the curb and you come to me for a truce? An alliance? What am I missing here?”

“Insight, little Bennett,” Ethan answered. “I told you, I don’t want you as an enemy.”

Too bad, Bonnie thought, because there was no undoing what he’d done, and all the answers in the world weren’t going to make up for the fact that this man was quite possibly the slimiest, sleaziest man she’d ever encountered in her life. He’d manipulated her mother, destroyed bits of Bonnie’s life and that of her friends – and seemed entirely unrepentant about all of it. He even had the gall to think Bonnie would form some type of truce or alliance with him? The guy clearly had a few delusions of grandeur. 

Bonnie was more than happy to oblige in bursting that little bubble.

“You know,” Ethan said, smile falling off his lips a bit. He sighed, rather knowingly, like he’d expected this reaction all along. “I can see this has been a waste of my time. Oh well, worth a shot, anyway. Do remember the little girl in the corner before you decide to wreck any havoc, would you? Be a shame if another innocent died because you were once again too foolish and headstrong to heed good counsel. Bennett witches have a habit of rushing into things to save the day, and they only end up making things worse. Just ask your mother.”

“Where is my mother?”

“Haven’t a clue,” Ethan answered, voice hardening. “And that’s the last question I answer for you. This little game of twenty questions is over. Now, or never: do we have a truce, or do I display just how much more experience I have than you in wrecking a little havoc?”

The warning wasn’t subtle, but then again it didn’t have to be with the purple-eyed girl still sobbing in the corner. 

Bonnie stared, unflinching. “Leave. Now. If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you myself.”

“God, you are just like your mom,” Ethan returned, and Bonnie flinched. “The girl can die at any time I wish. Remember that.”

Bonnie watched as he left, down the stairs and then towards Damon and the others. Bonnie watched as Damon shifted from left foot to right, hostility barely restrained, but the conversation was passing and brief. Ethan swept out the door with his two vampires in tow, and she breathed a sigh of relief. 

Bonnie turned back around to the purple-eyed girl. “You all right?” The girl was still outright sobbing, so Bonnie grabbed a tissue from the corner and approached her quickly. “It’s okay, you’re fine now.”

“Oh, god, oh god,” the girl cried to herself, then looked up at Bonnie, terrified. “I didn’t—were those vampires?”

Bonnie pressed her lips into a thin line, and a split second later became aware of a quick dart of wind and that Damon was standing at her back. “Everything all right?” he asked urgently.

The girl startled, looked at Damon, and cringed back into the corner again in naked fear. 

Bonnie took a breath and turned back to Damon. “Give me a minute.”

“Why?”

Bonnie pointedly tipped her head back at the girl in the corner, exasperated. “Damon, give us a minute in private.”

Damon’s fingers clenched into a fist, and he rolled his eyes. “Fine, but be quick about it. Or I can just compel her to forget—”

“No,” Bonnie cut in, quickly. Her reaction to the idea of subjecting this girl to any more vampire bullshit was instinctive, though a second later Bonnie realized it might actually be an option that would benefit the girl the best. She sighed. “Just—I’ll be out in a minute. Grab a cab. I want to take her to the hospital.”

Damon muttered something under his breath and turned around, leaving the way he came. Bonnie turned back to the girl, and held out a hand, drawing the girl out from the corner. Bonnie grabbed the tissue again and pressed it to the blood on the girl’s neck, hoping that it wasn’t too bad of a bite.

“You’re going to be fine,” Bonnie promised her.

“T-thank y-you,” she stuttered out. “I don’t know what I would have done without your help.”

“It’s fine,” Bonnie replied quickly, and after a bit, pulled back the tissue to see the damage. 

There was no bite mark. 

Bonnie was slammed against the wall, such a blinding, jarring slam that she lost consciousness for a split second. When she came back, it was in slow shards, first only aware of the pain, a pulsing, glowing presence; the throbbing blurred her vision. The purple-eyed girl wasn’t the picture of a terrified little girl anymore; consciousness ebbed in and out, and Bonnie struggled to understand, to comprehend, and then she realized her mistake with a start, the outright foolishness. 

The girl was a vampire. How had Bonnie not known? How had she not sensed?

Ethan.

“Nothing personal,” the girl mused, and bit her own wrist. Before Bonnie could recover, she was being fed the vampire’s blood, choking on the copper taste of it as it came down her throat. “But you should have taken his offer of truce.”

 _Damon!_  her mind screamed for help. 

There was a response, but it was a second too late. 

Lightning quick, Bonnie felt her neck snap.

* * *


	16. Chapter 16

* * *

The room was a disaster. Damon lost a few seconds, maybe a few minutes, slipping into a thick haze because one moment he heard Bonnie’s deafening cry for help over the lifebond, and the next he was inside the VIP lounge and an immeasurable amount of time had passed. The vampire that had pretended to be nothing more than a scared little girl was now staked, body crumpled in the corner. Damon couldn’t even remember doing it but the proof was in the adrenaline in his veins and the marks of a quick and messy fight that the room bore.

It didn’t matter. He had more important things to worry about.

He rushed to Bonnie’s side. “No, no, no, god, no,” he choked out, frantically. He gathered the back of her shirt in his fist and hauled her over, desperate in his search for any signs of life. The panic thrummed beneath his skin, pulsing in his veins. But he knew already, had _felt_ it, though he was doing his best to block it all out now. It had been like slow motion, feeling through his bond the moment of impact, when her knees fell, arms limp like ropes, the snap of her neck violent and jarring – and so very, very quick. He’d been too far away; fuck, why had he listened to her and left? But he’d witnessed it all, felt it through the lifebond – and he still refused to believe it until the moment he felt for her pulse and found none.

The revelation was like a sharp staccato of pain slicing clean through him. Damon choked out another denial and cradled her body against him, fingers sliding through her curls, body shaking with a fury. He looked wildly around, and he _refused_ to process it. But the second quickly caved and grief slammed into him like a sledgehammer, and he lifted his head and let loose a violent scream that slowly staggered off at the end.

Bonnie was dead.

One day – one fucking day of having her, and she was already gone.

Seconds slipped by and her body was lifeless in his arms, limp and slack. There was a smear of blood across her lips and the smell of it… it wasn’t hers. Damon came back to himself slowly. Wrangling together his nerves, he smeared the blood off her lips and slowly tasted it, affirming that it wasn’t Bonnie’s. He looked to the purple-eyed vampire in the corner, connecting the dots. When he returned his attention back to Bonnie, to her vacant eyes, a building wave of relief washed over him. It was jagged, and a betrayal of Bonnie even as he felt the jolt of it, but when he realized she’d taken vampire blood before she’d died, there was only relief that coursed through him. She would hate it, she would _despise_ it, her worst nightmare come true – but in that moment, Damon wasn’t thinking of complications because she would at least be _alive_ , and he wasn’t ready to let her go yet, not yet – not when he’d just gotten her.

Now, with some measure of hope again, he looked around and studied his options. It’d take anywhere from thirty minutes to an entire day for her to come back. They couldn’t stay here. He gathered up her body, ignoring all other pieces of evidence in their wake and quietly slipped through the back alley exit. He jacked a car and put her in the passenger seat, and when he laid her out gently, he noticed for the first time that her eyes were still wide open and lifeless. After another dart of sickness, he reached over and closed her eyelids with a brush of his hands.

The drive was chaotic. Soon the pink stain of dawn filtered through the windshield, and threw his leather jacket over Bonnie’s body. He didn’t need to worry about sunlight scalding her yet; she needed to transition completely over first. In the meantime, knuckles bleaching white on the steering wheel, Damon drove through the early morning congestion of the streets and it’d take at least another hour to reach their destination.

He could make arrangements for her to awaken at their hotel room, provide some measure of a controlled environment. There were already bags of blood and he could stalk up on more; he’d just gone through his first day as a vamp again, not to mention the hundred and sixty years of experience before that, he could help her out. He could help her through this. He _needed_ to. He felt desperation to the point where he felt nothing else, all doubts ebbing away.

It would be difficult, he already knew, to get her to take the blood. Bonnie and her fucking issues of responsibility and right-and-wrong, it’d be a fight. He could feel the impatience of that fight already building in his veins, and he’d make her see that she had no choice because if she didn’t feed, then she didn’t live – as a vampire or anything else. He didn’t focus on anything else, on the way that her mind would inevitably trip all over the complications and warnings of her turning vamp, because it didn’t matter. Only one thing mattered.

He slammed the brakes, bringing the car to an abrupt halt when they caught up to a line of vehicles in standstill traffic. This was going to be just like that time when he forced Elena to drink his blood, and Damon took a bracing breath, remembering how ugly that had played out. He’d thought he’d outgrown such reckless impulses in the last few years, but the idea of Bonnie dying had him fighting a backslide. She needed to live, and he’d be willing to do almost anything to make sure that would happen.

He came upon the exit for Queens. Damon stared at the green billboard, fingers flexing over the steering wheel once, then twice, before he reached a reckless decision. He swerved the car into the exit lane, cutting off a stream of cars and ignoring a blare of horns, flipping off one guy in particular. He took the city streets quickly, finally pulling the car to a screeching halt outside a row of familiar low-level stores. He went around the front of the car and pulled Bonnie out of the passenger seat, carrying her up to the storefront. The place wasn’t open yet, but he grabbed the doorknob and twisted until it broke. He didn’t need an invitation to enter a commercial place, and so he barged in after a boot to the door had flung it open.

“Hey, paying customer here!” he hollered as an arrival.

Felicia Heritage emerged from the backroom, wiping her hands on a towel, then froze when she found Damon carrying Bonnie’s lifeless body in the middle of her witchcraft store. Rage quickly washed over her face, but Damon stared back, unflinching, at the woman that had turned him back into a vampire only out of some vindictive impulse.

“I need your help,” he declared.

* * *

This was probably one of his more stupid moves.

Though, he supposed, the fact that he wasn’t already set on fire could be seen as a positive sign. If one ignored virtually everything else about the situation. Felicia shut the door behind her, and Damon was now back in the same basement room that she’d thrown him into when he’d turned not much more than a day before, except this time he’d gone into this place willingly. Bonnie’s body felt weighty in his arms, her head lolled back, neck exposed. He didn't put her down, despite the fact that it had been a while since he’d fed and his body was beginning to feel the effects. He’d been planning to keep a clear path to the door the entire time, should an escape be necessary, but when Felicia bolted the door, he knew any way out would either be on her terms or over her dead body. Damon decided the odds were fifty/fifty.

Felicia turned, eyes flashing a warning. “Fool. Did I not make myself clear the last time we spoke?”

“About the whole killing and maiming? Perfectly.”

“Then why are you here?”

He shifted his weight a little, to better support Bonnie’s body. “I got nowhere else to go, lady. Trust me, if I had _any_ other option, I’d be doing it.”

She glanced to Bonnie’s prone form, then studied Damon under half-lowered lashes. He had a brief stab of déjà-vu, remembering how Felicia’s senses with the supernatural stuff was nearly off the charts, how she’d known from merely a glance that he’d been human the last time – and now, this time, he knew just as well that she recognized the change in Bonnie.

“She’s in transition,” Felicia said, without emotion. “I told you that would happen.”

“You and about a dozen other people. Don’t feel so special.”

“And what do you expect me to do?”

“Stop it,” he said. “Keep her human.”

The old lady barked a laugh, vicious and dark. “And what makes you think that I could do that? Or that I would, for _her_?”

Damon’s fangs descended on instincts, eyes black and red veins engulfing his pale features. His instinct was to rush Felicia, flank her into corner, and force her to play along – but even if Bonnie hadn’t been in his arms, Damon knew better than most that rushing a witch was the best way to have kissing session with the floor or a nearby wall. He couldn’t do this with coercion. As much as it pained him to admit it, this woman had the upper hand and he needed her help.

“You turned me back into a vampire,” Damon answered in a sly voice, smiling. “And from over four hundred miles away, you turned Jeremy back into a human. You’ve got the mojo to do pretty much anything you want, I think.”

“I want you out of here,” she warned. “And if I have to kill you to do that, then so be it. Best to start saying your last rights, boy, for even a soul such as yours deserves some peace.”

“What the hell, lady? Because the only thing that will make you creepier at this point is if you suddenly get _religious_ on me?”

“What? Don’t remember how it goes? Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art—”

“I don’t fear evil because I am the baddest motherfucker in the entire goddamn valley,” Damon barked. “Use me. I can help you.”

“Help me?” she laughed again. “How?”

He set Bonnie’s body on the floor, gently laying her down before he had a brief stab of a realization. Ben’s visions – the one of Damon crouching over Bonnie’s dead body in a basement or cellar of some sort. This was it. This was that moment come to life. The thought was sickening, and angering, and Damon threw a hard look over his shoulder at the old witch.

Felicia’s eyes moved over him in a long, studying way before her lips thinned. “Desperate fool. A fool in love.” She shook her head. “And you expect me to care?”

Damon’s shoulders tensed, his hackles rising with the taunt, but he fisted his fingers and stayed right where he was. It was true enough. For Bonnie, he’d be willing to do virtually anything, including a suicidal mission to beg an enemy for help. What other options did he have?

“I don’t expect you to care about Bonnie,” he answered, lifting to the balls of his feet. He shrugged a little. “But getting the bastards that killed your entire family might interest you somewhat.”

The change was like a fingersnap, abrupt and telling. All of the expression drained from Felicia's face, leaving her looking as if she had been chiseled from wood. If her stance weren't still so predatory, Damon would almost have thought her one touch shy of completely shattering apart. The air thickened with the smell of power.

“Be careful,” Felicia hissed in a low voice, “of what you say next.”

Damon didn’t flinch. “Bethany Bennett and Ethan. I can get you them. I can offer them up to you on a silver platter, dead or alive. Skinned or sautéed, however you want. Give me back Bonnie and I’ll take them down for you.”

Felicia tugged at her sleeves and looked as if she was considering ways to skin or sautéed Damon. His nerves were already on a war-zone trigger and the offer to do Felicia’s bidding left an ill-taste in his mouth, but he’d do it if he had to. Damon could feel the air in the room growing warmer before Felicia straightened a little, deciding on being mildly amused.

“You would do that? A boy who I took down with a bat of an eye.”

“Stop calling me boy, I’m older than you by two lifetimes. And you caught us by surprise the last time, but trust me when I say I know how to take on bigger baddies than you.”

“You’re still weak and suffering from the new transition,” Felicia accused.

“My body is quickly adjusting,” Damon answered, and realized he was right. It had taken a little over a day, but he could already feel himself mastering his hunger and his agility in ways that had taken him many years to do the last time. It was like getting over the first few jittery days of an old sport, but he was getting into the swing of things again, and he’d be up to par in no time. “Point me in the direction of something, and I’ll kill it faster than you can give the order.”

“Oh,” Felicia mocked. “My own bloodthirsty vampire. How quaint. But you see, that is all your kind understands. Bloodlust and carnage. The way to deal with things only in terms of violence—”

“ _Witch_ ,” he snapped. “Help me or not, but shut the fuck up about things you don’t understand. I am not some mindless animal, and you’ve got no moral high ground to stand on. I’m here because you can help Bonnie. If you can’t or you won’t, then stop wasting my fucking ti—”

Something collided with Damon hard and carried him back. He made a sound half between a grunt and a shout, the weight and momentum of the force slamming him against the wall as bits of plaster fell around him. Damon might have been much bigger than Felicia and much older, but either trait meant nothing to her. She held him there, steady, with nothing but a lifted eyebrow to show for the strain.

"Go ahead, do it," Damon said easily. “Stake me or set me on fire. Just help Bonnie.”

That made Felicia pause. She followed his gaze and managed, even though holding up Damon must have required some concentration, to look down and study Bonnie’s prone form. The moment stretched in silence, and Damon held his tongue still as the rest of him, watching Felicia’s throat work to form a few words. Eventually, she released him so that he landed in a pile on the floor, and she was shaking her head, but it was like a gesture meant for herself only, not for Damon. She turned away as Damon picked himself up off the floor, brushing away the dirt on his slacks when she whirled back around again.

“You’re an idiot,” she told him, though she sounded exasperated now rather than angry. “A moronic vampire, and I’m deeply surprised you’ve lived this long. I don’t need your help. I don’t want it. When I kill Ethan, it will be with my own two hands.”

“Enemy of my enemy, blah, blah, blah,” Damon added. “Why are we fighting if we can work on the same side?”

“I cannot help you,” she answered, tartly. “I only work magic to balance that which has been unbalanced. Bethany and that murderer Ethan – they deceived me into thinking they were like me, but they took one of my family’s red gems and violated it. I simply corrected what they destroyed. That is all. That is the magic that you underwent, and the extent to which I can do again.”

Damon paused. “Which means—”

“Which means I cannot help your Bonnie,” Felicia finished. “Even if I wanted to. I can only reverse that which has been done by the red gem in their possession."

Bonnie's theory had been right, then. Felicia had the other red gem in her possession, the twin, which she'd used to undo his humanity.

Felicia stepped forward. "Bonnie was not turned because of magic, was she?”

He felt his throat constrict. “No. She was made the old fashioned way.”

“Then she will turn, or she will die,” Felicia finished. “Those are her only two options.”

Damon stared. “There has to be something that you can do—”

Felicia stalked forward. “I am letting you _go_. Be thankful for that.”

With that, she turned and walked toward the bolted door, pausing to unlock before she made her way out. The door creaked shut after her, and Damon was left frozen, the last reckless option he had in saving Bonnie shutting in his face just the same. He’d failed her. He’d promised Bonnie all those weeks ago that she wouldn’t turn, that it wouldn’t come to this, and now here he stood with his failure.

* * *

He got Bonnie back to the hotel, and got the bags of blood ready and waiting.

As he sat ready for her to wake up, the moments stretched out into silence and he hung his hands between his knees, lips pressed into a thin line. He’d already called Stefan, updating him on everything that had happened. Damon had heard Elena and her denial in the background when she received the news of Bonnie’s transformation, the stark refusal accompanied by the sound of something crashing to the floor. Damon didn’t know what was happening, precisely, but Stefan had been back on a second later and the rest of the conversation was brief and perfunctory before they’d hung up.

He’d already booked them a flight back to Mystic Falls. Bonnie would need familiarity to ground her during and after the transition. She’d need the help and support of Elena and Caroline and everybody else back home in order to make sure she didn’t spin out of control like Jeremy had. A part of Damon had trouble thinking it’d really be an issue, because a vampire’s personality was an increased manifestation of all their human hang-ups. Bonnie’s biggest hang up in life had always been her over developed sense of responsibility and guilt. Now, he expected that to be tenfold.

Still, all the reports and visions indicated that Bonnie as a vampire wouldn’t be a friendly one. Bethany had spent her entire life trying to prevent this, and Bonnie herself had suffered nightmares about what she would be capable of as a vampire. Felicia seemed to believe it would be nothing good. Damon had no idea how much faith to stalk in any of that. They all had no idea what made a vampire tick; they were all ruled by fears and doubts more than anything else. Bonnie wouldn’t be another Katherine. He knew Katherine, and all the little Katherine-lights of the world. Bonnie wouldn’t turn out that way; he was sure of it.

Trouble was, how was he supposed to convince Bonnie of that?

A part of him wanted to force Bonnie to drink blood and deal with the consequences later. Better to ask for forgiveness than beg for permission, right? Except that one time years ago with Elena kept nagging in his head, teaching him a lesson he wasn’t about to forget anytime soon. He could live with a lot of things, but living with the hatred and resentment of the woman he loved was his worst nightmare. He was close, though. Close to not giving a damn if it meant that Bonnie lived – because Bonnie had to be the stupidest, most self-righteous, self-sacrificing idiot he’d _ever_ known, and he’d spent the better part of his long life in the company of Stefan, so that was saying something.

He needed her to live.

And that was the moment Bonnie awoke with a sharp gasp. Life flooded back into her, eyes snapping open, and a long rasp of breath escaped her lips. He wasn’t startled at the sudden movement because he’d been expecting it for some time, but the sight of her entire body surging up in bed was still painful to watch. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he soothed quickly, and he took her by the shoulders to calm her down while Bonnie looked around wildly, confused and terrified. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

“Damon, what—”

“It’s okay,” he insisted mindlessly, because it _had_ to be. The graceful line of her throat shifted once as she swallowed, and for a blinding second all he wanted to do was put his lips there, press kisses all over her neck and her skin and her mouth, because she was beautiful and alive and it made him a little crazy to think of her as anything else. “You’re at the hotel. You’re safe.”

“Oh, god,” she choked out, and he could feel the panic building in her. “I was—did she? Oh, god, that girl, she did it, didn’t she?”

He couldn’t answer that without sending Bonnie into hysterics. “Everything's going to be okay. I promise you that.”

She stopped trembling long enough to blow a soft stream of air across his ear, his neck, as she bowed her head and rested it against his shoulder. He cupped the back of her neck, murmuring another quick word of comfort into her hair, and she was warm to the touch, like a fever had broken out across her body. When she pulled back, comprehension was dawning on her face, about everything, about what was going to happen next, and she was scared-shitless.

“No, Damon,” she told him in a breathless whisper, crying. “Nothing’s going to be okay.”

* * *

Ever since weeks back when Bonnie had first heard the prediction that she was going to be turned, she’d started a simple mantra in her head: _I am never going to become a vampire. Never, not for any reason._ She kept repeating that to herself, over and over again, almost at every turn. It was supposed to be a promise to herself. She didn’t have time for second guesses and what-ifs, not when so much rested at stake. It was this thought that forced her to confront her nightmares from that time she’d been comatose, to reestablish some memory of what she’d seen her vampire doppleganger do and say in those dreams. Maybe it would give a hint towards what had turned her into such a vicious vampire? But no matter how much Bonnie thought about it, she’d never figured it out.

And now here she was: transitioning.

Resolutely as she could manage, Bonnie climbed to her feet and walked over to the sink. She brought up palm-fulls of tepid cool water and rinsed out her mouth, and then splashed her face with trembling hands. The hunger was there, pinching her stomach, and the light in the bathroom vanity was so blindingly bright that she reached over and flipped the switch, plunging the room into darkness. In the mirror, she was aware that Damon was watching her intently. His body was tense - all hard and angry lines that spoke of a stubbornness she didn‘t want to face. He had a bag of blood in his hands, and she knew exactly where he stood on the matter before he ever saying a word.

“Bonnie,” he said eventually, voice brokering no argument. “You have to feed.”

She gripped tightly on the porcelain and looked up at her own reflection. The blood was already calling to her, and if she hadn't known exactly what rested at stake, she would have already been across the room. She kept still through stubborn willpower, ignoring the temptation.

Strangely, she'd bypassed denial altogether and headed straight for acceptance without any pit stop in between. She knew what to expect now: the first few symptoms of the transition showed themselves in the initial hours with mild symptoms like fever, heightened senses, uncontrollable emotions, extreme hunger – for blood, of course, but she remembered Jeremy telling her about how Vicky had managed the first few hours by gorging herself with human food, unable to realize the real source of her cravings.

But if she didn’t feed, she was dead. _Dead_ -dead, not the vampire kind.

So, the choice remained before her, and she’d thought that when the time came, there would be no choice at all. She’d had a mantra in her head, a promise that she needed to keep. She was never going to turn into a vampire. But coming to this decision was harder than she imagined when faced with a fast approaching expiration date, and she had no idea if she had the strength to fight Damon about it on top of that. He wouldn’t understand if she decided not to feed; he could never understand why she came to the decision to choose death over becoming a monster – and he was too driven by emotions, too.

On the other hand, if she did feed, who knew what atrocities she’d be responsible for? Whose death? Whose pain? She wasn't sixteen years old anymore, with her old prejudices against vampires, but that didn't mean she didn't harbor some of the same reservations against them. Bonnie couldn’t handle it if her life meant the death of someone else, even one person. She’d already cost Ben his life, not to mention the Coven—

“The Coven members,” she exclaimed suddenly, in realization. She whirled, brushing past Damon and the overwhelming smell of his bag of blood, not trusting herself to stop near it. She got to the bedroom and reached for her cell phone, running down the list of contacts quickly.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m checking the hospital where Matte is at,” Bonnie explained. “Before he had me killed, Ethan told me something. The only way to bring the Coven members out of the coma was if I died. The consequences of the Spell of Undoing would bounce back on me and—”

Bonnie found the number, cutting herself off to dial quickly. A second later, a nurse picked up and Bonnie requested the connection to Matte’s number. Her mother was always there, and though it tore Bonnie’s goddamn heart open every time she spoke to Ben and Matte’s mom, she’d forced herself to suffer through it.

This time, though, Matte herself answered the phone. “Hello?”

A dart of relief shot through her so fast, so overwhelming, Bonnie forgot to breath for a second. “Matte? My god, you’re awake!”

There was a stark pause on the other end. “Bonnie? Is that you?”

“Yes,” she rushed to say. “God, Matte, you have no idea how good it is to hear your voice—”

“Bonnie,” Matte cut in. There was another pause where Bonnie heard her take a deep breath, a small hitch in Matte's throat, before she continued in a harsh whisper like she was afraid someone might overhear, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but never, ever call me again. Whatever friendship there was between us, whatever connection – it’s gone. Don’t contact me ever again.”

Bonnie felt that like a sucker punch. “Matte, I know that Ben—”

“Don’t,” she broke in again. “Just don’t. Do me a favor, Bonnie? Forget you ever knew me.”

She hung up the phone before Bonnie had a chance to answer. The sting of that was somehow worse than what she'd felt when her neck had snapped. The dead dial-tone on the other end played out for a long beat before Bonnie marshaled her nerves together again, and turned to Damon. He’d overheard, of course, because his hearing was better than hers. She looked away from his knowing gaze, and tried not to let the condemnation of Matte’s words slam into her. What else could she expect? Bonnie was responsible for Ben’s death. Of course his sister would hate Bonnie.

Still, Bonnie tried to focus on the bigger picture. She could only confirm Matte, but if the young girl was awake, then the rest would be too. Bonnie sat down on the edge of the bed, overwhelmed for a moment. The Coven Members had woken up. Bonnie’s death hadn’t been a total loss, at least.

Damon was staring at her, and whether he overheard her thoughts or not, he didn’t share her enthusiasm. “Fuck them, Bonnie. We’ll send them a sympathy card.” He tossed her the bag of blood. “Now eat.”

Bonnie froze, staring at the bag. It was hypnotizing, honestly, to stare at the dark red substance. She could smell the flavor of it, and oh god, it was delicious. She’d never craved anything more in her life. She brought the bag up, licking her lips – then saw the cell phone lying forgotten on her lap. The sacrifice of the Coven members was a sharp reminder of the damage Bonnie could do, and she pulled back, abruptly, then looked wildly around for a source to get rid of the bag. She sped across the room, opened the window, then flung the bag out and watched it splash onto the ground sixteen levels below. A pedestrian nearby startled and looked up, and Bonnie jumped back, away from the window.

She collided right into Damon, who steadied her by the shoulders, then leaned over and frowned out the window. “Terrific. Good call, babe. That isn’t going to raise any alarms, like, at all.”

She wiggled out of his hold. “I panicked, okay? I’m not ready to feed, and don’t hand me anymore bags!”

He raised an eyebrow, forcing wryness into his voice. “I can probably get a girl up here to offer a vein or something, if you prefer a little more fresh?”

“Damon!” she warned.

The seconds ticked by, and Bonnie sat back, drawing her knees up to her chest, eyes fixated on the blank wall in front of her. Her insides turned into a twisted tangle of nerves and she kept playing the sickening decision in her head, loop after loop, until she had a headache coming on.

Eventually, Damon joined her, but not before pouring them both a glass of scotch from the wet-bar, and he handed one to her and said, “It’ll help with the cravings.” Bonnie downed the drink in one gulp, and then stole his glass and did the same again. When she pulled back, Damon was staring at her with an eyebrow lifted in something akin to pride. “It’s not so bad, you know,” he offered, settling beside her. “You can control your cravings. Ask Caroline—”

“Caroline killed someone within the first day.”

“Yeah, but she stopped after that, mostly.”

Bonnie stared at him, incredulous. “ _Mostly_?”

“She only killed when she had to, after that,” Damon said in a dark rebuke. “And that first guy at the carnival, the one you set me on fire for? That happened because she didn’t know what was going on, because she was fighting her cravings and it took over her. If you fight it, Bonnie, it’s just going to get worse and more overwhelming, and then you can do some _real_ damage.”

Bonnie scrubbed a hand over her face, through her hair, and settled it down at the nape of her neck. “So, what? I take the blood and turn vamp and we live happily ever after for the rest of eternity? C’mon, Damon. It doesn’t work like that. We don’t get the fairytale ending unless we’re talking about the pre-Disney versions where people die bloody at the end.”

“Screw happy endings,” Damon flung back. “I want the fucking journey, Bonnie. You and me – we’ve just started. We could be something, and I’m not willing to give up on that just because some asshole decided to use you as a pawn in some twisted game of chess with your mother.”

Bonnie paused, a little overwhelmed, before she asked him, “How long? How long do I have?”

He pressed his lips into a thin line. “If you don’t drink at all? At this point, you die in a little less than twenty-four hours.” She flinched, wishing he’d softened it up somehow, but then again there was no way to lessen that blow and maybe that was what Damon wanted. To freak her out like that. “It’s not an exact science,” he continued, “But you’ll feel it before the end. You’ll know it’s coming.”

And if she didn’t feed, it also meant, of course, that she had less than a day to settle all her scores. “When’s our flight?”

“Two hours?”

Bonnie nodded. “I’m not going to do anything – make any decisions – until I’m back in Mystic Falls. Couldn’t travel anyway, during daylight, if I changed.”

Two hours before the flight, another hour in the air – they’d reach Mystic Falls sometime around noon.

Damon was watching her like a hawk, and she was getting a little weirded out by that. “You can always make a ring for yourself—”

“I need my ingredients for that,” she cut in, impatiently. “And I’m not even sure if it would work for a witch. A witch-vampire.” She paused, face crumbling. “Fuck, I’m like some freakish hybrid. Is that-would that make a difference?”

“Don’t know. Maybe you’ll just be twice as badass?”

“Or twice as homicidal than your average vampire?”

“Which average are we going by?” Damon asked wryly, like they were discussing things academically. He offered a shrug. “The smart vampires actually kill less and draw less attention to them. The average fang-banger usually only lives a few years if they kill without discrimination. They get caught easily.”

She looked at him. “And what were you?” She doubted he’d ever been the cautious type.

“At the beginning?” he shrugged again. “A bit of both, I suppose. Impulse control issues, coupled with— a plan.”

A plan to save Katherine. A long term plan that had motivated him for well over a century. Damon was a dedicated boyfriend, that was for damn sure. She shook her head, refocusing, and his theory brought to mind more questions. It occurred to her that for a person that had spent so much of her life surrounded by vampires, was even _sleeping with one_ , she was woefully ignorant about some things.

“How much do you feed?”

Damon answered, “Twice a day. Three times if I’m feeling peckish.”

“And Caroline can’t stand animal blood,” Bonnie added, almost to herself. “She says it makes her weaker.”

“Yeah, the puppy-blood isn’t as appetizing as a blonde teenage girl’s—”

She groaned in response, pulling away, and she knew exactly what he was doing, trying to ease her mood with his jokes. It wasn’t working in the slightest. “Don’t make light of that, Damon.”

“You have to breathe, Bonnie. That’s still a necessity for you. Or would you prefer I entertain you with a sonnet that expresses my angst over—”

“Damon!” she snapped.

And just like that, all the cracks in him opened up like a flash of lightning, and he moved just as quick. He was suddenly clutching her by both shoulders so that she was facing him, grip vice-like, eyes dark and intense and just as intimidating as she knew he could be when he wanted something so badly he didn’t care how it looked or what was right or wrong. “You need to feed, Bonnie,” he insisted in a tight voice. “Not later, don’t think about it – just do it. We can deal with all the other messy issues after that. Right now, you need to feed.”

“I don’t know—”

“You have to,” he ramrolled right over her. “You don’t, you die – and that’s not – Christ, you can’t do anyone any good like that. You can’t just fucking leave people like that.”

She lifted her gaze, staring at him all blue eyed and pale skin and rumpled hair, and her words jammed in her throat. God, _she loved him_. It was a sudden epiphany, a glaring insight that couldn’t have come at a worse moment because she couldn’t get it out. She couldn’t get it out because she wasn’t sure if she was going to feed or not, couldn’t figure out if the right choice was to die or which decision in front of her was braver and wiser. And she could smell him now, spicy and strong and with a touch of what smelled like sandalwood. His eyes looked terrified, and Damon was looking at her like her decision to live was the same as condemning him to death, and fuck – she didn’t need that pressure. She didn’t need Damon and his overwhelming intensity, his freight-train of emotions. It scared her, always, the strength of it.

It was too much, the power she knew she had over him. He should hate it – she didn’t know why he didn’t – but the expression on his face was so naked, so desperate, like all he could do was drink in the sight of her.

She pulled away from him like his hands were on fire. “I'm not doing anything yet,” she declared. “Not yet. I want to get to Mystic Falls, first.

* * *

The flight arrived just a little after one, and she’d never had more reason to be annoyed by air traffic delay in her entire life. The trip for the most part had been uneventful, despite the fact that sitting still for so long had made Bonnie feel like her skin was on fire. She’d managed to control herself the entire time and it was ironic, even, that the only incident had been from Damon; her eyes had started to hurt because of all the light, even with sunglasses, and when she’d requested everyone in the first class cabin shut their window shades, only one person held out. Damon had walked over, bent over to slide the shade shut himself, and threatened in a sweet voice that if the guy reopened it at any point in the flight, Damon would peel back his skin inch-by-inch. She suspected that he hadn’t wanted Bonnie to overhear that, but her senses were so heightened, so deafening; she could hear a fly from all the way over in the third class cabin at random flashes.

"Oh, God, Bonnie," Elena greeted as soon as they stepped into the boarding house. The girls hugged each other so hard, bones were threatening to crack, and over Elena’s shoulders, Bonnie saw as Stefan welcomed Damon back with a simple nod. “How’re you doing?”

Bonnie didn’t know whether to put up a front or just break down crying. “I’ve been better.”

“Have you—”

“No,” Damon answered for Bonnie, before Elena had even finished saying the words. “She hasn’t fed on blood yet, but she will soon.”

Bonnie looked over her shoulder at him, sending a silent glare. He flashed a smirk back, completely unrepentant, and she knew he’d push this agenda like a steamroller until it was right down to the end of the wire. It was claustrophobic and unhelpful, because she knew exactly where he stood on the matter. The decision was already weighing on her mind every second she stayed awake. Bonnie looked back at the others, and Elena was glancing from one to another, and Bonnie realized just how close Damon was standing to her, near enough to be breathing down Bonnie’s neck if he ever decided to exhale.

Bonnie went straight to the kitchen. It didn’t matter food wasn’t what she was craving, or that it wouldn’t satisfy her hunger in the slightest. She was _starving_ and needed something, anything, and the sudden idea of raw steak was so appealing for all the wrong reasons, but she didn’t care. In the cupboard, she only found a few measly boxes of cereal and a bag of chips so she quickly moved on to the fridge, then stopped short when she discovered bags of blood inside.

“We like to keep them handy,” Damon offered lightly, at her back again.

He’d followed her into the kitchen, as had Elena and Stefan, and she knew everybody was watching her but Bonnie couldn’t force herself to turn around right away. _God, the blood. It was mouthwatering._ She slammed the door shut and swung around to press her back against the fridge. She glared up at Damon for good measure, with admittedly no apparent reason other than he provided an easy target.

“She’s trying to resist,” Damon explained to the others, though his eyes kept locked on Bonnie. “Stefan, mind telling her how that’s going to end?”

Stefan hesitated. “Look, I’m not going to—”

“It’s going to end badly,” Damon answered his own question, voice hard-edged. “It’s going to end in death, either someone else’s or your own. The only way that doesn’t happen? Is if you _stop_ resisting and take a bag of that blood, and just get it over with.”

“Damon,” Elena interrupted. “That isn’t your decision to make.”

He rolled his eyes and flung his hands up in the air. “Yeah, got that, otherwise I would have stuffed a bag down her throat hours ago.”

He stormed off for the living room, and after a beat Stefan begged off and followed him. Bonnie breathed easier, finding a bit of the claustrophobia easing away without Damon’s constant demands in her face. She scrubbed a hand over her eyes and then walked away from the kitchen because the smell of blood was still overpowering. She didn’t realize that Elena was following her until they’d reached the foyer again, and Bonnie had nowhere to go except up, out or down to the cellar.

She whirled around to Elena. “What should I do? God, Elena, I don’t know what to do.”

Elena winced. “Bonnie, I can’t tell you what to do—” Bonnie started pacing, and god, she knew that but it would be so much easier if someone just told her the right thing to do. “But if I had an opinion on this,” Elena added, suddenly, “I’d tell you to take the blood.”

Bonnie stopped, staring.

“Bonnie,” Elena said, stepping closer and choking out the words, “I don’t want you to die. I’ve seen so many people suffer for turning – Jenna, I almost lost Jeremy too, I was there when Vicky died. But I know as well as anybody that it doesn’t always go down that way. Look at Caroline. Look at Stefan and Damon—”

“They’ve all killed,” Bonnie insisted. “I don’t want to kill anyone, Elena.”

“And there’s no guarantee that you will, not if you accept this from the beginning and try to deal with it instead of deny it.”

Which was what Damon had been saying all along. Hearing it from Elena was just too much, the knife twisting – because if there was one person’s opinion Bonnie trusted and valued above all others, it was Elena. Elena, who had a level head; she wouldn’t do something solely for emotional reasons but would look at the bigger picture, the people’s lives it could cost. Bonnie and Elena had always been twins that way.

And then Elena pulled out a trump. “I’ve been thinking about turning myself.”

Bonnie stared. “What?”

“I was going to tell Stefan before, and I’ve been thinking about it ever since—” Elena shook her head, cutting herself off before she started again. “I wouldn’t think about it if I thought I’d be forced to kill someone, but I don’t think that’s the case. A person can learn to control their cravings, right?”

Bonnie had no idea who Elena was trying to convince, herself or Bonnie. “You really think I should turn?” Bonnie asked her. “That I can learn to control myself?”

“I can help,” Caroline said, suddenly, announcing her arrival through the front door. She stood there in the doorway, her purse flung over one shoulder, fashionable jacket thrown over a cute pair of jeans and a tank top – and her mascara was running a little. Bonnie wondered how long she’d been standing there listening to the conversation. “It’s not so bad, Bonnie. I promise.”

It was too much, suddenly, to have both Elena and Caroline flanking her, both imploring her to make the same decision. Caroline was right, of course. She’d help, as would Stefan, and Bonnie didn’t think she was going out on a limb in saying that Damon would be there for her every second of the way – and if she did this, Bonnie knew, they’d both be vampires. Every second could conceivably stretch out for more lifetimes than Bonnie could even imagine.

Caroline walked forward, slipping her hand into Bonnie’s and giving it a squeeze, and the only thing Bonnie could think, beyond commanding a hazy smile to her lips, was that Caroline’s hands were cold and Bonnie would have to get used to that if she was going to turn into a vampire herself.

After a pause, Elena said, “I’ve called up Lucy. I thought you could use her help. She’ll be down in a few hours.”  

Bonnie sagged against the pillar in the foyer, unable to even process that for a beat because Lucy had been the farthest thing from her mind, but the idea of having kin here was comforting. She swiped at her eyes, making a visible effort to pull herself back together. Flashing Elena and Caroline a grateful smile, she drew back and jogged up the stairs. She needed some time alone to think, to make her decision without everyone else giving her their advice. She knew they all meant well, but this was her life and her choice, and Bonnie had never been one to do anything she didn’t want to do. The clock struck two p.m., and Bonnie stopped briefly to stare rudely at the giant grandfather clock at the top of the stairs.

Nineteen hours with change, and counting down.

* * *

She wanted blood, badly.

The others decided to leave at some point, and Bonnie didn’t know why. Bonnie just stood at the bedroom window, peeking out from a corner of the drapes. Stefan, Elena and Caroline loaded into a car out front, and sat idly waiting for a while. She heard footsteps approach her from behind, and the footsteps were like a beating of some drum, heavy and loud and very grating. She turned around, expecting it to be Damon – and found Jeremy instead.

He had his hands jammed in his pockets, head tilted to the side in a silent and half-formed question, like he wasn’t even sure if he would be welcomed inside. Bonnie hesitated, then offered him a small smile that Jeremy took as his answer. He treaded in a few more steps, and then they stood at opposite ends of the room, a cavernous space between them.

“So, uh, I had, I wanted to say...” Jeremy began, then slammed his eyes shut, took a steadying breath, and tried again. “I’m sorry,” he said, this time more delicately and with deliberate ease. “I know I owe you a better apology than that, but I can’t think of—”

Bonnie wasn’t sure she was ready for this conversation. “Jeremy, you don’t need to—”

“Just let me get through this?” he cut in. “I’ve thought up a whole speech and I’ve even written it down somewhere, but if you interrupt, I feel like I’m never just gonna get it out. So, just, let me get through this?”

She looked away briefly, then nodded. “Okay.”

“I didn’t know Ben at all. He was good friend of yours?” He paused, so she nodded. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am for that, for my part in his death. Or any of the other bullshit that I said and did when I was a vamp. I guess I was kinda a dick, huh?”

Bonnie couldn’t help it; a brief laugh escaped her lips. “Kinda.”

Jeremy flashed a painful smile. “I thought there would always be this thing between us,” he began to explain, gesturing between them with a wave of his hand. “I actually had gotten over you. I had gotten over the way things had been left between us a long time ago. But when I turned, it was like every impulse, every petty dispute, every argument I ever had dug into my psyche. And you – you were big in my life that way. I was so in love with you, and the end – there was no closure. I guess that’s why I fixated on you a little when I turned. I always thought there would be a thing between us, but now I get it. Now I know.”

“Know what?”

“I get why you had to leave – and I get that you’ve moved on.” He paused. “I’m just sorry it took me turning into a vampire to figure that out.”

Bonnie paused, floored and unsure of what to say. Before she could respond in any intelligent way, he was already turning to leave, the door slipping shut after him. Bonnie didn’t know how to process any of that: the simple apology, the acknowledgment of their messy break up and the understanding for why it happened – it had come out of _nowhere_. Apparently, Jeremy had gleamed some wisdom during his time as a vampire.

Bonnie turned back to the window, and a minute later Jeremy was climbing into the car to join the others, and Stefan drove them out the lonely road. She wondered briefly where they were all going, but mostly Bonnie was thankful for some time alone to collect her thoughts.

“How about some company?” Damon asked, right at her back.

Bonnie jerked in shock, because as heightened as her senses were, apparently he still had the eery ability to sneak up right behind her, invade her personal space, all without her even noticing. "Anybody ever tell you that you need a freakin' bell wrapped around your neck?" He only flashed a smirk, so she told him, "I was kinda hoping for some time alone.”

“Hmm,” Damon said, evidently in disbelief. “Alone?”

“ _Yes._ ”

“Funny way of showing it,” Damon remarked. “Seeing as how you’re in my room.”

There was a brief pause where Bonnie appreciated that maybe she shouldn’t have instinctively gone to his room rather than her own across the hall, because Damon had that small, smug little smirk playing across his lips. It was like watching a peacock spread its feathers, all arrogant and proud. Bonnie felt herself start for a defense, then immediately deflated a split-second later, because, _all right, fine,_ she might’ve wanted some company, even though Damon managed to cloud her senses more than anything.

“It’s cool,” Damon insisted lightly. “Mi bedroom es su bedroom. Just know I’ve got a no-clothes policy every Friday. And guess what day it is today?”  

She rolled her eyes. Then caught a certain scent, and he still smelled of sandalwood, but cleaner now too, like shampoo and something else, something tempting, something—

Blood.

Bonnie stared at his mouth, hypnotized. “You’ve fed recently,” she said, almost accusing.

Damon stilled, and said, very carefully, “Didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to.”

She stood as much distance as she could take, then broke, crushing her mouth to his, desperately. She swept her tongue around his mouth like she could soak up the taste of any blood. It was just the flavor of it, faint and enticing, not nearly enough, but it drove Bonnie mad. She practically attacked him with a sudden start, and it was scary how quickly he responded, and how easily he’d understood her mood without a second of forethought. Was that the vampire in him or the lifebond acting up? There was a little too much cheeky arrogance in his kiss, because she could feel his lips turn upwards in a smirk, and damn it, she wasn’t even freaked out by how invasive his bond to her was becoming if he could always read her moods like an open book.

Bonnie pushed him back to the bed and climbed on top of him, straddling him across the waist, and it was like Bonnie couldn’t stop herself; Damon certainly wasn’t disagreeing. He fisted one hand around the curls of her hair, holding her still while he returned every one of her advances with equal fever, and Bonnie moaned when one of his hands fell to knead her ass.

She took control, lifting his shirt off in such a rapid move that his hands were left in the air by his head, and when Bonnie caught both his wrists with her hands and restrained them near the headboard, Damon chuckled. “Christ, please tell me this is the beginning of some yet unexplored kink for you.”

“Shut up, Damon. Now is not the time to run your mouth off.”

He looked downright evil with that. “It’s not playing fair if you set it up so easily—”

“Shut _up_ , Damon.”

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am!”

God, she was going to have to teach him to take directions better, and so she kissed him again just to shut him up. She sat up and grabbed Damon by his belt, dragging him up a little, and got a jolt of pleasure by the small, surprised noise that Damon made in the back of his throat as he moved to comply with her aggressions. Her body was all over his, not even an inch between them and, fuck, she needed him _right now_ , so badly Bonnie couldn’t think straight. She must’ve let go of his arms at some point because he undid her pants with a fluid flick of his wrist, and shoved aside her underwear, not even bothering to drag the material off. He thumbed her clit and groaned when he found her already wet. Her body quivered and he groaned again.

She managed to strip her shirt and get her bra off, but that was as far as she was getting before Damon was kissing her senseless again. Her skin was almost humming with awareness, body feeling lean and muscles taut. It was more sensitive too, because a single flick of his tongue over her nipples had Bonnie bucking against his hold. He clamped his mouth over the swell of her breast and sucked, and Bonnie moaned, wriggling against him.

“Fuck,” Damon choked off, making a short, sharp sound.

Every single nerve was alive and tingling. As intense as it was, it was also a blur. Rapid and frenzied, and soon they were both naked and he was scraping blunt teeth against her skin while pushing inside her and fucking her senseless, and Bonnie kept her voice restrained for a while there, until she remembered that the house didn't have other people in it, and so she didn't need to care; Damon seemed to like making her scream like that because he did everything he could to get that reaction. She would’ve been more annoyed by the dark arrogance the tugged at his lips, but fuck it, it was sexy as hell.

He fucked her urgently, frantically, and then she came, heat flooding her body with a spiking high of euphoria. He came sometime after that, spilling into her with a low groan against her neck, and they stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other as their breathing slowed. He withdrew from Bonnie, and they ended up spooning together across the mattress. She used his outstretched arm as a pillow, fitting her body neatly against his, back to his front, and was almost dozing off. Her body was sleek with sweat, almost fully satiated, and she could barely move.

The hunger was still there, though.

“Stay with me,” Damon breathed against her neck. “And we could do this every day for the rest of our lives.” 

It was said so faintly that if it had been uttered from any further distance, she would have needed that heightened sense of hearing just to pick it up. There was relief and pain that lay in the absoluteness of his fidelity to her. There was no helping it, and most of that had absolutely nothing to do with the lifebond. She knew if she did stay, he’d promise her whatever he could give – that was Damon in a nutshell. An arrogant son of a bitch, but a hopeless romantic.

Though it made her wonder how strong the lifebond was now, what else it could entail, and there was no way to know, really. Even if the magic behind a lifebond wasn’t so ancient and mysterious, they’d screwed with its development in any number of ways. Death, rebirth, severing the bond, reconnecting the bond – they’d cross-stitched over the same link over and over again in a way that left the results completely unpredictable.

She flipped over to face him, running a hand down across his cheek and then over his brow. “Close your eyes,” she whispered, and when he complied, she leaned forward to whisper to him like she was telling him a lover’s secret. “ _Peto somnus meus diligo._ ”

Damon went instantly to sleep under the spell. Slowly, Bonnie untangled herself from his limbs. She slid her feet up and over the side of the bed and climbed off, reaching for her clothes in the silence. A part of her felt an immense amount of guilt for doing that to him, but she needed some space to think and she wouldn’t be able to do that with Damon constantly demanding her attention, reasoning that his way was the only way. And she didn’t want him eavesdropping on her thoughts, not now – especially now.   

The decision to turn wasn’t just about him. Bonnie had to consider everything. Matte and Ben were just two shining examples of how things could go wrong and the jolt of that guilt could very easily consume her if she gave it too much thought. She felt the weight of her responsibilities on her shoulders, the warning of those damn visions – what if she turned out to be a monster? Bonnie couldn’t risk that, not even for all the promises in the world. Promises could be broken, but a killing of an innocent could never be undone.

With a morbid laugh, she pulled on her underwear. She’d always been acutely aware that she’d carried a martyrdom complex that would best be fitting for Joan of Arc. It was one of things she’d confronted back in high school, when she’d faced down the certainty of her own demise in the hopes of saving Elena from Klaus. That trait had, apparently, heightened during the transition. Because as much as she loved Damon, as much as she wanted to survive this with some semblance of her identity intact, she’d just gone through a tumultuous period in her life where the consequences of her actions had never been more apparent and stinging. It had taught her something. There was no predicting anything with certainty. There were just warnings and beliefs, and every instinct inside Bonnie was screaming warnings now.

Bonnie swallowed against the tide of swelling emotions, and controlled her breathing as she reached the only conclusion she could ever reach.

“Hey!” someone hollered from a distance, from down below. “Anybody alive in this joint? I’m looking for my cousin!”

Recognition hit. Bonnie raced to finish dressing, then flew out the door and down the grand staircase in time to find Lucy kicking the front door shut behind her with the back of her heel. Her hair was pulled back into a clean ponytail, and her cousin had on one of those motorcycle jackets that looked two sizes too big, like she’d ripped it off the latest guy she’d been sleeping with. There was a thick layer of dust covering Lucy’s legs, too, the telltale sign of riding a bike through dirty roads, and Bonnie looked out the window briefly to find a motorcycle in the driveway with its kickstand up.

God, she didn’t know how she was going to break the news to her cousin.

“Hey, Lucy,” Bonnie called out, a little timidly.

Lucy pivoted to face Bonnie, but whatever greeting had been poised on her lips died a quick death. Lucy stared at her, and Bonnie didn’t know what expression was written across her face, but apparently it was entirely too telling.

“Shit,” Lucy said, knowingly. There was grief in her eyes, though you had to know Lucy very well to spot it. “You’ve already called it, haven’t you?”

* * *

It was late evening before Damon woke up, hungry and a little stiff from sleeping in an uncomfortable position. After scrubbing a hand across his face, Damon reached blindly for the spot beside him and then sat up with a start when he realized what was missing. Bonnie was gone. He climbed off the bed, confused about how he’d fallen asleep or how she’d managed to slip out from bed without him noticing – then he realized with a quick start, almost an epiphany that worked well to darken his mood. She’d set him up with a sleeping spell.

Scowling, he began pulling on his clothes and looked to the clock, realizing her time was running out and if she hadn’t fed on blood yet, he needed to get more aggressive with his intervention. He tugged on his pants lightning-quick and threw on his shirt, rolling his sleeves up his arms as he went for the door, but a cream colored note tucked on the corner of her pillow caught his eye. He walked over, finding the item had slid just off the pillow to the side, and yanked it free.

Bonnie’s handwriting stared back at him.

 _Damon,_ it said, _I’m sorry I couldn’t be brave enough to say this to your face, but I think we’ve clearly established in no uncertain terms that you can be persuasive when you want to be, and I had to do this my way. You know what’s coming for me. I can’t be responsible for a single more death, and if I turn into a vampire, you know it’ll happen. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow – but it will happen. I can’t live like that. I won’t._

 _I’m sorry._

 _I love you._

 _~ Bonnie._

* * *

“This is fucking stupid,” Lucy declared, but drove on.

Looking out the town through her truck's fogged windows, Bonnie found she couldn’t exactly disagree. _Always have a plan,_ Bonnie used to insist. Now she was flying blind, making shit up as she went along because she was on a swift countdown and scores still needed to be settled. She thanked god that Lucy was here, though there were drawbacks to letting anybody in on her gameplan.

“Fuck, Bonnie, this is suicidal,” Lucy seethed. “I get that you’re pissed, but calling out Ethan isn’t gonna end well.”

“I’m going down, Lucy. The least I can do is take the son of a bitch with me.”

“You don’t have to die,” Lucy insisted.

“I’m not going to become a vampire.”

“And since when is it an either-or option?” Lucy said, settling back against the cushions of her seat, puffing out a breath. “Think about it, baby-girl. You’re not seeing this clearly. The guy turned you in order to motivate your mother into refining the Spell of Undoing. Use that.”

Bonnie turned to her. “What?”

“Get your mother to save your ass!”

“Let me list the problems with that,” Bonnie flung back. “One, I don’t know where she is. Two, I don’t trust her. Three, I will not be the reason that Ethan gets his hands on a consequence-free Spell of Undoing—”

“You said he had a falling out with your mother,” Lucy pointed out.

“Yeah, but clearly Ethan is still angling to use whatever happens to me, otherwise I wouldn’t be transitioning right now,” Bonnie bit out, then sighed. “Look, the Spell of Undoing is bad news. The only thing preventing sick, twisted bastards like Ethan from using it to their heart’s content is the fact that its drawbacks are completely unpredictable. If my mother ever managed to get rid of that, all just to save me – can you imagine the end result?”

“Yeah,” Lucy said. “You’d live, baby-girl.”

Bonnie gripped the armrest until her knuckles bled white. “If Ethan somehow saw how my mom performed the spell—”

“How would he even know about it?”

“I don’t know, but he’s been following me with no problems!” Bonnie lashed out. “Everything I’ve done, everywhere I’ve been for the last two weeks, Ethan knew about it. I am not going to be the reason he gets a hold of the Spell of Undoing.”

There was a heavy silence from the other end of the cab, and Bonnie held her breath. She was lining up her most persuasive arguments, though she wasn't sure what other ones there were, really, other than _It’s my choice and I’ve made it_ and _I need someone to help me, and you said you’d always have my back_ – when she heard Lucy laugh, bitter and sharp. "You’re doing this no matter what, aren’t you?”

Bonnie paused. “Yes.”

“Fuck,” Lucy said again. “This is _so_ stupid.”

But she stopped arguing.

Twenty minutes later, they had reached the clearing near the Lockwood Estate just as the sun was setting somewhere over the horizon. Bonnie paused briefly, marking the last sunset she’d ever see, then resumed her pace with a somber gait. She picked a spot somewhere between the remains of Fell’s Church, a.k.a. the Tomb, and that cellar where Ben had his throat ripped open. These woods held so many different instances of death, and the setting matched the mood of Bonnie as she trudged through the dark forest with Lucy just behind her.

They set up the candles in unison without much form of communication between them, and now that Lucy had implicitly agreed to help, it looked like the other witch wasn’t planning on saying much. Lucy moved with a sense of purpose now, but with the stiff actions of a woman that hated every second of it. Bonnie tried not to push her luck by disrupting Lucy’s silence, but Bonnie was jittery and wired, and wished someone would just tell her she wasn’t being a fool. It was hard carrying on with the knowledge that she only had a few hours to live, and beyond the injustice of it all, Bonnie just wanted some comfort in knowing she was doing the right thing.

“There’s still a chance to back out,” Lucy said to her.

God, she was fucking hungry.

Bonnie shook her head, then bent to retrieve her bag where she had stashed the grimoire, the book tied closed with a leather strap wound once around it. Emily had once written the directions to a spell that could remove the powers of another human being. It was written in crisp elegant slopes, in a time where blacks were punished by death if they knew how to read and write, much less wield the power that Emily had quietly hidden during all those years. Bonnie had no idea how Emily had done it; how she’d managed to outmaneuver vampires like Katherine and fool a town full of suspicious and paranoid men like the Lockwoods, the Gilberts and the Salvatores. She’d made fools of them all in the end.

Bonnie’s only salvation now was that she would be following in her ancestor’s footsteps, apparently. Bonnie had never attempted this spell before because it was an act of desperation, and one of particular cruelty, to remove another witch’s or warlock’s power. Bonnie would’ve also rightly feared the consequences that would bound right back on her for performing it: her own death.

That wasn’t a problem, currently.

There would be no surviving tonight, but like Bonnie had told Lucy earlier, if she was going down, then at least she could take Ethan with her. It wasn’t the same thing as executing his death, but it was close enough that Bonnie felt like she could go peacefully into that good night with some form of resolution. As long as Ethan never hurt anyone with his magic again, maybe some good would come out of Bonnie’s sacrifice.

“This is really how you’re going to end it,” Lucy said, a little breathlessly. Bonnie turned to discover with some shock that Lucy was crying – Lucy, head witch in charge, fearless and strong when Bonnie had seen others fall to their feet, sobbing. “You’re only twenty-five years old, for god’s sakes. You haven’t even started to live.”

Twenty-four, actually. But Bonnie didn’t correct her. “I feel older,” she told Lucy. “And c’mon, admit it. You knew it was going to end this way for me from the first moment we met. Remember? My place is right here, in the middle of all this mess.”

“I never meant _this_ ,” Lucy choked out. “I didn’t mean you had to sacrifice yourself—”

“Stop it,” Bonnie cut in. “Please, just don’t. This is hard enough as it is.”

Lucy fell silent again, but not before she swept Bonnie up into a hug so tight it almost crushed her bones. It was fitting, Bonnie knew, that it would be another Bennett witch standing beside her at the end, but a part of Bonnie ached with the stinging absence of someone else. Damon was somewhere out there, no doubt madly hunting for Bonnie – and she’d taken the chickenshit way out and left a note. She’d always sucked at goodbyes.

Bonnie pulled back, and there were tears in her eyes as well but she brushed them away and gave a watery smile. “C’mon, let me do this now.”

Lucy stepped back. She wouldn’t partake in the spell. Only Bonnie could afford that. The candles ignited. Bonnie drew in her power, and then exhaled slowly. The Latin words of the spell were easy to conjure for her now, and the power within her flared. She hadn’t tested much of her magical ability since she started transitioning, but she found to her surprise that accessing it was remarkably easy like her sense hadn’t been the only thing heightened.

About halfway through the spell, there was an unnatural change in the weather, and it had nothing to do with Bonnie.

“Hold up,” Lucy said, tilting her head to get a better sense of it. “There’s something wrong.”

Bonnie sensed it clearly. “It’s Ethan,” she said knowingly, a tinge of anticipation making her skin goose-bump. “He knows what we’re trying to do.”

“Well, whoopdi-fucking-do,” Lucy snarked. “Bastard can’t do anything to us—”

From a clear sky, a sudden bolt of lightning hit the earth.

Bonnie dove out of the way. Thunder cracked loudly. A tree fell over, bent and broken at its trunk, and Bonnie had just enough time to call out to Lucy before another lightning bolt struck the ground. Lucy lunged hard, veering out of the fiery pathway by mere nanoseconds, but she must’ve felt some jolt of the impact anyway because she screamed out over the next boom of thunder. The lightning didn’t dissipate; instead, flickering in some chaotic dance, Bonnie watched as the electricity sparked and struck out in all directions against all trees.

Another tree next to Lucy took a direct hit, and Lucy was still on the ground, braced on knees and hands when it came crashing down on its side. Bonnie screamed a warning and waved a hand, managing to psychically shove Lucy out of the way – but not enough. The tree crash-landed halfway over Lucy’s right side. Lucy shrieked out and Bonnie shifted into gear and plowed ahead, diving right into the cackle of lightning, in the center as it danced amongst the outcropping of trees. It was like some beautiful but deadly trick of light.

Her feet stood firm on scorched dirt, and Lucy was screaming for her to stay back, but the next thing Bonnie knew, she flung her arms wide open and began counteracting the attack with a spell of her own. It was almost instinctive, unthinking, the way the words fell from her lips. The thunder and lightning skipped around her like some chaotic orchestra, but Bonnie stood right in the middle of it, feeling her skin scorch only briefly before the stung ebbed away.

When she was done, the sky had cleared again.

Bonnie stood breathing heavily, dazed and a little winded, but the broken tree that had fallen over Lucy grabbed her immediate attention again. Bonnie jumped over the shattered trunk and skidded to Lucy’s side, discovering the other woman pale and bleeding, half-buried under the weighty tree.

“Oh, god,” Bonnie choked out in horror.

Lucy coughed up blood. “Help me.” But Bonnie’s mind froze, her thought-processes ceasing. A reckless impulse took control, washing over Bonnie and making it impossible for her to budge, to think. “Bonnie,” Lucy sputtered, “Help me.”

And all Bonnie could see was the blood.

Thick, rich, entrancing blood – seeping from her head wound, her body, on Lucy’s lips and along the hundred and one little scrapes across her body. Bonnie’s instincts betrayed her, so long refused, denied the very nature of what Bonnie was becoming. Bonnie reached out a shaky hand to the blood on Lucy’s face, coming back with a smear of it on her fingertips. God, the blood was captivating and appetizing, and she was _so hungry_.

“No,” Lucy was saying, but it sounded far off, distant. “Don’t, Bonnie! Don’t do it—”

Bonnie tasted blood. Sucking on her fingers, she found it even more glorious than it had promised to be. Fangs descended, not that Bonnie was in the frame of mind to notice much, and her eyes blackened with angry red veins creeping around her features. One taste, and she wanted more. She wanted it all, and Lucy was right there, the perfect source because everywhere Bonnie looked, all there was, all she could see, was blood.

Blood, everywhere.

 


	17. Chapter 17

 

* * *

There was a sharp cry as Bonnie leaned over the body, but the fear in Lucy’s voice never even penetrated. Bonnie bit down on flesh, and warm blood gushed into her mouth hitting Bonnie’s system like a rush of adrenaline.

An arm yanked Bonnie back.

Bonnie snarled as she was flung against the ground, landing hard, only to discover Damon standing at the spot where Lucy’s broken body lay trembling and weak. He turned to Lucy, cursing once, then reached under the trunk and hefted the tree off her with a groan. The fog in Bonnie’s head cleared a little, as well as some of the bloodlust, and Bonnie blinked. Damon had already bitten his wrist and brought his welling blood up to Lucy’s lips, managing to get her to take a few mouthfuls as Bonnie straightened a little. She rested back on her elbows, head infused with warring instincts.

“What—” Bonnie began, before the gravity of the situation hit her.

Dear god, she’d almost fed from Lucy. No – she _did_ feed, and Bonnie brought her fingers up to the incisors in her mouth, feeling them out and then flinching when she discovered the fangs.

“Oh, god,” she choked out in horror.

She was a vampire. All that denial, all that conviction – and it had crumbled at the first sight of blood.

And the scent of Lucy’s blood in the air; Bonnie still wanted it.

“Is she—” Bonnie began faintly, fearfully.

“She’s fine!” Damon growled, and after a few more moments of feeding her his blood, he helped Lucy to her feet. She wavered on unsteady legs, eyes still filled with the fear that had sprang up in the wake of Bonnie’s indulgence. “Go,” Damon instructed Lucy. “Take the truck and get out of here.”

“But—”

“Go!” Damon barked, and Lucy didn’t stop to argue with him twice.

Bonnie traded a brief look with Lucy, then dropped her head down in both shame and that thread of hunger that wouldn’t dissipate, wouldn’t go away – not for the rest of her life, Bonnie knew. With just enough sense of mind to grab the grimoire, Lucy left, covered in the residue of her own blood, though her injuries had were gone thanks to Damon’s blood running through her veins. Bonnie could still smell it – both Lucy’s blood, and the smaller, lesser scent of Damon’s in the air. His was nothing more than a drop in an ocean of senses, and by the time Damon was crouching in front of Bonnie, the welt on his arm had already closed over.

“You all right?” Damon asked.

Bonnie looked up and said, “How did you find me?”

“I’ve been tracking you through the lifebond ever since you left me in bed – which, by the way, we’re going to shortly return to that little note you left behind. The dry lightning storm was a good breadcrumb to follow.”

And he’d gotten here just in time. She looked back to the broken tree and the scorched earth. A few more seconds, and she’d have killed Lucy. God, her stomach turned and Damon was already lifting her up by the arm and they were moving, and Bonnie was in a daze.

* * *

By sunrise and two bags of blood later, she’d snapped out of her haze.

Everybody had gathered around for a war-counsel, but the revelation of Bonnie’s transformation remained a central topic. Despite herself, Bonnie hovered around the edges of the conversation. She stood against the wall in the library, away from everybody including Damon. She could sense some retrained emotions from him – probably hostility, considering the way she’d left him in bed while going out on a kamikaze mission. She didn’t know how to handle the fallout of that, or how to ever look Lucy in the eyes again.

“This was the wrong day to quit smoking,” Lucy had remarked, just once, the only outward indication she’d given to the hell of a night she’d had.

Bonnie had fucked up. She could admit it.

She tucked her hands inside her pockets, looking out the side window where the sun cast a warm glow across the horizon. It was quicker than she expected, to transition like this. Though that wasn’t strictly true, because some things felt painfully in flux. It was just that she’d spent so much time railing against the visions, trying to fight the inevitable, trying to make to show everyone that she could take care of herself, and now she was a vampire anyway. This time, there had been _no choice_ , or if there had been a split second for any decision, she’d made it unthinkingly, on instinct. And now here she stood, a byproduct of her stubbornness and a little bit of fate, and everybody was covertly studying her from the corner of their eyes – except for Damon. She felt his scrutiny in full force.

Stefan was at loggerheads with Damon about the next course of action in taking Ethan down. Because it was crystal clear now, as long as Ethan lived, there would be no safety. Bonnie just stood watch, following the debate but quiet on her own thoughts.

It was obvious that whatever they did, Ethan was always one step ahead. It was like he was watching Bonnie constantly and he knew _everything_ she did, and he always countered it in such vicious moves that she never saw coming. That had to end, but how? There was fight coming. Bonnie could feel it in her bones. And judging by the tally thus far, Bonnie was clearly marked as the underdog.

“He’s watching me,” Bonnie declared. “I don’t know which spell or how, but he’s watching me.”

Damon was watching her, too. Narrowing his eyes, he said, “Anyway you can counteract that?”

“Not without knowing what spell he’s using,” Bonnie answered. “I shouldn’t be here for this. Whatever plans you have, I shouldn’t know about it. It might compromise it.”

“Don’t get paranoid.”

“She’s not being paranoid,” Lucy cut in. “She’s right. He’s watching Bonnie.”

Bonnie waited for Lucy's eyes to settle on her, but her cousin's gaze skipped over her without venturing anywhere near Bonnie's face and then settled squarely on Damon. Bonnie went stiff, every muscle locking as she pushed away from her lounge against the wall. Concern and guilt morphed into a sickening clench in her stomach, and she needed to get out of there.

Bonnie didn't wait for anything else. She took for the stairs, but the front entrance near the hallway flung open at the exact wrong moment. Sunlight flooded in. Bonnie didn’t even have time to react; a blade of light cut through a patch of the corridor, hitting her right in the face, and blisters formed. She was slammed into the shadows before she could react, shocked to discover Stefan had pushed her out of the way of the sunlight. Bonnie was breathing hard, scorched skin on the left side of her body, feeling the pucker and pain of that for a few seconds before it receded.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, thrown. Stefan nodded, pulling away and Damon immediately took his brother’s place at her side. “I’m fine, I’m fine.”

“Sorry,” Tyler offered, from the doorway, looking contrite. He closed the door quickly. “I didn’t—”

“I’m fine,” Bonnie said again, but she had a feeling she’d said that too many times in the last few hours for any one to believe her. Judging by the dark look Damon glared her way, Bonnie’s instincts on the matter were spot on. Still, whatever reprimand she’d been expecting from Damon never really came, because the next thing she knew he was slipping off his ring and sliding it onto her thumb. “What—” she began, in shock.

“Just keep it,” Damon cut in, “Until you make your own ring, keep it on you.”

“Damon, I can’t—”

“Bonnie,” Damon hissed, in a voice brokering no argument. “Relax. I’m not asking you to marry me. Just keep the fucking ring on until you make your own.”

She didn’t flinch against the tone; she knew him too well. Bonnie absently fiddled with the ring by twisting it on her thumb, and Damon pulled back. It was the only digit on her hand actually big enough to fit his large sized ring without sliding immediately off again.

“Okay,” Caroline said, breaking the silence. “But that at least counts as going steady, right? Because I’m sorry, you’re giving her your _day-walking_ ring. I knew you guys were flirting, but since when have you guys gotten so serious?”

“Caroline,” Elena admonished. “Let it go.”

“Priorities, cupcake,” Lucy reminded suddenly, from the corner. “We’ve got more important things to do than gossip. Ethan needs to be put down, and put down _now_.”

Bonnie scrubbed a hand through her hair, and then took the opportunity to flee up the stairs without a backwards glance.

* * *

It was early afternoon before Damon managed to pull himself away from the group, remembering that he hadn’t eaten in some time. He let himself pour a generous glass of blood, a touch of whiskey to flavor the taste because it was just one of those days. Before he even had the fridge door closed again, Stefan was standing in the doorway.

“So,” Stefan said. “Interesting day.”

Damon snorted. Interesting was the polite term for fucked up, and Damon wasn’t in the mood to use euphemisms right then. He swallowed the glass of blood in three gulps and poured himself another shot of whiskey, watching as the clear liquid diluted into the red residue in the glass. He lifted the glass and shot back the drink until he felt the bitterness settle in his gut like battery acid.

Bonnie had chosen death. Push came to shove, she’d decided oblivion was a better option than an eternity with Damon. That _stung_ , though he shouldn't have been surprised.

Stefan was still staring at him.

“What?” Damon asked.

“Why do you always do this?” Stefan replied. “Nearly two hundred years, and I still don’t get how you can be so slavish to your devotions.”

“Stefan, I know you become increasingly paranoid when there isn't enough angst in your life, but don’t start with imaginary reasons too.”

“Don’t start? Damon, I care about Bonnie just as much as the next person over, but you – first, you were willing to turn vamp for her, and now you’re giving away your daywalking ring like it’s a trinket.”

Damon let the comment slide without a response, at first. He recalled all too clearly weeks back when he’d fought off a dose of nervousness in simply handing his ring off to Bonnie. Now, he was letting her wear it. That ring had been in their family for more generations than either of them had been alive. “It’s just for the day,” Damon dismissed eventually, though a touch annoyed because he hated explaining himself, even to Stefan. “I can maneuver around the shadows better than her, and she’ll get her own ring soon enough—”

“I’m worried about you. When you get this obsessed about a girl—”

“It’s not an obsession,” Damon warned, pointing a finger. “This isn’t a schoolboy crush, and you know it.”

Stefan stared with his patent disapproval. “I know, but excuse me for showing some concern for the only brother that I’ve got. I don’t want you doing anything too reckless.”

“Too late.”

“My point, exactly.”

He understood, to a certain extent, Stefan’s beef. Damon had the habit of getting tunnel-vision. He’d actually gotten better the last few years, developed a personality that didn’t hang on the whimsy of Elena every time she looked his way, but with Bonnie he was fighting his baser instincts all over again – instincts that were written into his damn DNA, it seemed. It didn’t matter that he realized it was unhealthy to be fixated with another person’s well-being to this extent. It was who Damon was, for better or worse, from balls to bone.

“Trust me,” Damon told his brother, bitterly. “Sometimes I wish I wasn’t love’s bitch. Though I’m more annoyed by the fact that people keep trying to kill my girlfriend. Being involved with Bonnie Bennett should come with hazard pay.”

Stefan didn't respond for the longest beat, watching his brother carefully, the way the utter scrutiny in his eyes made Damon’s skin itch uncomfortably. Damon imagined he knew a thing or two about what Stefan was going through. It wasn’t that long ago that Damon had been willing to do anything for Stefan’s welfare, manipulating events to resurrect him from the dead; theirs had always been a thorny relationship, full of opposites and arguments and a century’s history of bad blood overcome by a handful of years – but at the center of that, they’d always been watching each other’s back in their own twisted little brotherly way.

“Hey,” Jeremy said, announcing his presence from the side-entrance. “As much as I hate to break up this staring contest, you gotta hear this.”

Damon turned to Jeremy, annoyed. “And where the hell have you been all morning? I get you’re still licking your wounds in shame, but we could really use all the heads we’ve got when we call a war counsel.”

Jeremy glared. “I wasn’t avoiding anyone—” Damon snorted in disdain, because he could count on one finger the amount of times he’d been in the same room as Jeremy since he turned back into a human. “I was communing.”

Stefan went still. “Communing? As in—”

“Talking to the dead,” Jeremy affirmed, turning to address Damon in particular. “Ben Wittiker said hi, by the way.”

Damon froze for a beat. Jeremy’s little freakish gift of talking to the dead never got not-creepy, and Damon was always a little distrustful of ghosts just on general principle. He waited a beat, exchanging a quick glance with Stefan, before he tested a theory. “How do you know it was Ben? You never actually met the guy – y’know, despite having orchestrated his death so effectively.”

Jeremy flinched. “Fuck you, Damon.”

“Thanks, but Bonnie’s taking care of that.”

Jeremy advanced, but Stefan got in the middle and blocked the two men from starting anything. Damon had no idea why he was provoking Jeremy, aside from it being too easy an opportunity to pass up. Turnabout was only fair play, after all – but it wasn’t like Jeremy was really responsible for all the shit that had gone down when he’d been a vamp; the taunting, the killings, the annoying psychoanalyzing he’d done in order to poke and prod everyone in the house into a state of frenzy. Damon wasn’t one to throw stones when it came to shit like that.

Still, Damon was in a pissy mood and Jeremy was providing an effortless target.

“Not helping,” Stefan warned them both.

Damon eased back with a smirk affixed firmly on his face. “So, how do I know it was the real Ben?”

“He called you a dick,” Jeremy returned. “Apparently he had your number.”

Damon had never really gotten along with Ben, so being called a dick was actually a point in favor of this being legit. He shrugged. “All right,” Damon mused wryly. “Sold. What did Ben have to say?”

“He wants me to deliver a message to his sister.”

“What message?”

“It’s for his _sister_ ,” Jeremy pressed, “And unless you’re keeping some majorly impressive secrets about your identity and sexuality here, you are not her.”

“So,” Damon pressed. “What do you want from us?”

“Nothing,” Jeremy said. “I’m not asking permission here. I gotta take a roadtrip to do it, and I’ve already talked to Tyler. He’s coming with—” Damon rolled his eyes, because he knew exactly why Tyler felt compelled to honor all of Ben’s last requests. “—but I just… something Ben said. Or hinted at. Spirits don’t really talk in clear terms.”

“What?”

“The next full moons around the corner, about two weeks from now. Ben made some vague remarks, and now I got a bad feeling about it.”

“What did he say?”

“It was more like his tone.”

Damon was finding himself on a short temper today. “Tone? God, you are depriving some village of its idiot right now. The guy was _eaten_ by Tyler during the last full moon. Anybody would have a tone.”

Jeremy glared. “It’s more than that.”

“Is that it? A ghost had the spooks and wants you to deliver a message from beyond the grave to his sister? That’s what you’re wasting our time with?”

“God, you’re such a fucking asshole,” Jeremy said. “I really don’t know why Bonnie puts up with you.”

“I give her fantastic orgasms.”

“Damon,” Stefan admonished. “Cut it out.”

“Whatever,” Damon tossed back, though he realized his mood was even more biting than normal. He had his reasons. “I’m out.”

He left for the stairs without a backwards’ glance.

* * *

The others were formulating a game-plan that she could no longer take a part in, much less lead. It felt like Ethan had taken everything from Bonnie – her life, her sense of identity, and now her independence. She couldn’t even help her friends fight because she was a liability. A hindrance. Anger and resentment grew, overshadowing any indignity, and it was frustrating that the only thing Bonnie could do when she reached her bedroom was pace. She slipped off her jacket and fiddled with Damon’s ring again, tracing the emblem with her nail and forefinger, over and over again.

Bonnie heard the faint murmurs of the conversation down below, and she concentrated long enough to pick up bits and pieces of what Stefan was saying to Damon, and then Jeremy’s interruption – but she couldn’t listen, couldn’t be involved in any way, so Bonnie released a groan and decided to take a long, hard shower. Everything she said or did – Ethan could be watching. A crawl of goose-bumps broke out across her skin as she contemplated the potentially voyeuristic glimpses that Ethan could get. She had no way of knowing what he saw, or what he didn’t, but she had to assume the worst. Every conversation, every intimate moment with Damon, every joke, every tear, every hint of frustration and vulnerability – Ethan could probably be privy to it all.

Fuck it, Bonnie thought viciously.

She wasn’t going to live her life afraid of her own shadow. She stripped off her clothes and climbed into a hot shower, determined to figure a way around this. There had to be a loophole. A way to work around Ethan’s watchful eye because she was not going to spend this fight on the sidelines.

But she couldn’t handle this on her own, either. She needed help.

She stood in the shower long enough for the group down below to wrap up their conversation. She heard Damon’s approach long before she saw him, and studied him quietly through the fogged glass of her shower as he stripped his clothes after making a decision to join her. The long lean muscles of his chest, the smooth lines on his shoulders and arms, the way his body seemed like it was picture-perfect. Anticipation thrummed through her, but it wasn’t that simple, was it? There was a conversation coming that Bonnie didn’t want to face – how was she going to explain slipping him a spell, leaving him in bed with nothing but a note as a farewell?

When he opened the door and climbed in, Bonnie pressed against the stall and waited for him to make the first move. He didn’t disappoint; with superhuman speed, he grabbed a fistful of her tangled wet hair in one hand and yanked her forward for a kiss that was just shy of painful. His mouth was aggressive, almost angry – and Bonnie felt her fangs jet out on instinct. She pulled back to try and control the reaction, but Damon only pushed her back against the wall and pressed the full length of his body alongside hers. Water splashed everywhere, and his fingers were tangled in her hair, bodies chest-to-chest, and Bonnie was informed of his clear intentions by the hardening press against her thigh.

“I’m sorry,” she managed to slip out, in between a string of aggressive kisses. He stilled and settled against her, hands braced on the wall beside her body, head cradled into the crevice of her neck. She could feel his pent-up anger and frustration vibrating against her skin, and she wrapped a hand around his shoulder, hoping he could accept the gravity of her words. “I left the note because—”

Damon’s response was only to kiss her again, and again, never letting her finish. Some mindless time later she curved a leg over his and grabbed blindly at the shower railing nearby. The change in position left him with the perfect opportunity to hoist her leg more firmly around his waist, holding her up with a hand planted around her thigh. He pushed inside of her, making Bonnie gasp.

He took her, hard.

Bonnie cried out in pleasure, uncaring that she was in a place that had a houseful of vampires and a werewolf that could probably hear everything. He bit her neck and pulled back to lap at the mark with his tongue. “Christ,” he muttered against her ear, somehow finding the coherency to speak. “Moan for me," he instructed darkly, and it was unthinking when she complied, more to do with his movements than his request. "That’s my girl,” he murmured against her skin.

Bonnie only hummed in response, resting her head against the cool tiles and closing her eyes against the sensation of Damon thrusting in and out of her. When he insinuated a hand between their bodies, finding her bundle of nerves, Bonnie cried out and arched into his touch. Within seconds, she came so blindingly hard that she screamed. Damon came within a few thrusts, finding his release inside of her and choking on her name in a voice so rough and raw that she didn’t care who could overhear because his voice like that, saying her name, was a thing of absolute beauty that melted her spine.

Bonnie licked her lips and swallowed drops of water, watching absently as the shower streamed across Damon’s back in silence for a few moments as they got their bodies under control. The shower railing was bent where she’d gripped the metal, and Bonnie realized she’d have to adjust to the new strength in her. For a long moment, neither of them moved.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” she offered into the silent wake, half-wry, half-serious.

He was still pressed against her skin. “Make sure all your apologies go like this, and I won’t complain.”

“God, men are so easy. Why is sex always the answer?”

“It isn’t the answer. It’s the question. _Yes_ is the answer.”

She hit him against the shoulder.

Damon pulled back and made a face. “We just appreciate a straightforward approach, buttercup. Though, next time, a little lingerie wouldn’t go amiss for the seduction bit of the apology.”

“Seduction?” Bonnie repeated. “Wasn’t aware I actually had to seduce you, here.”

“You were naked.”

“I often am while showering,” she pointed out.

He pulled back a little, only to grab a hand and press a small kiss to her open palm. It was a surprisingly gentle gesture that was the complete opposite to his behavior moments ago. He swept his finger over the ring on her thumb, watching it for a moment and – this was different, she realized. The mood shifted in a split second because this was neither demanding nor humorous, but something much more. This was just the beginning of forever, wasn’t it? Two vampires with eternity ahead of them and a lifebond between them, a lifebond she didn’t even know how it functioned because they’d screwed with it a dozen different ways. That was more significant than him putting a ring on her finger – and he’d done that too, hadn’t he?

It should have scared the shit out of her, but Damon was the one thing right now she didn’t fear; couldn’t fear.

“I’ll make a day-walking ring today,” Bonnie said. “I should already have the ingredients.”

He nodded. Bonnie sighed. There was darkness in his eyes, the way he got when he was thinking something he didn’t want her to know. For once, she’d have given anything to use the lifebond to read his thoughts rather than him having access to hers. Because all these years, she’d always thought Stefan got the prize for his brooding, but apparently she had it all backwards when it came to the Salvatore brothers. Damon was so singularly focused, it was scary; she’d seen it plenty of times before but she was still getting used to being the object of his attention like that. She wasn’t sure she’d _ever_ get used to it.

She was not going to use him up like Katherine. Or Elena, but Bonnie felt guilty for even thinking that because Elena was her best friend and Bonnie knew better than most how painful that unrequited love had been for both sides of the equation. She couldn’t be like either one of those women, though. Not if she could help it.

She had to make it up to Damon, somehow.

“So, speaking of that note,” Damon said, even though they’d hadn’t been in the slightest. She wondered how much of her thoughts he'd overheard. “About what you wrote?”

She sighed, knowing she had to explain herself about it. “I didn’t want to be responsible for anyone’s death. If I became a vampire, I know that’s what—”

“No, not that,” Damon dismissed quickly, and did that weird exaggerated eye-thing he always did. “The _other_ thing.”

It took her a full two seconds to figure out what he meant. “Oh.”

“Yeah, that. Hell of a thing to write in a letter.”

“Look at you, fishing for me to say it.”

“A guy likes to hear those things, once in a while.”

Bonnie was quiet a moment, and then, trying not to sound hesitant, said, "So are we really gonna try this, huh?" Her gaze drifted to the nothingness over his shoulder. "You, me, and the potential for eternity?”

Damon exhaled heavily. "I know," he said. “The smart thing to do would probably be to ignore me, because I'm. Fucked-up is probably a nice way of putting it."

“It's not like I’m not my own special brand of fucked-up. And you, this isn't exactly a new thing with you, Damon. And it doesn't seem to bother me enough to want to stop." She scrubbed a hand through her wet hair and sighed. "This is never going to be happily ever after for us, you realize? We live two screwed up lives, and we’re too opposites on practically _everything_. I say one thing, you do another. We’re setting ourselves up for an eternity of—”

“Foreplay,” Damon argued with a smirk.

She gave a brief smile, shaking her head. “I guess I'm just looking to know that this is going to be a controlled sort of descent into disaster."

Damon snorted. "So you're going to try and fix me, is that what you're saying?"

Bonnie glared at the ceiling. "I'm not _insane_ ," she told him, her voice carefully controlled. "I'm just in love with you." The words tripped over her tongue without much elegance, and the uncontrollable anxiety in her belly was a little ridiculous considering she wasn’t saying anything to him he hadn’t already said and demonstrated in a dozen different ways. Still, he didn’t respond immediately and her stomach was dropping. “You going to say anything to that?”

He gave her a look, eyes so somber, and she couldn’t describe it, not by half, because naming the expression would have somehow lessened it by half. She just knew his gaze made breath lodge in her throat. How many women had said that to him, and _meant_ it? She had the slightly uncomfortable intuition that she was the first in his very, very long life and she ached for him because of that. Just as she was pulling back, a hand, warm and heavy, came to rest on the nape of her neck. She let her forehead rest against Damon's, her eyes slipping closed.

“Just for the official record,” Damon whispered, “I said it first.”

Bonnie offered a small laugh. “We’re keeping score now?”

“Anytime I can manage to one-up you? You betcha.”

* * *

The next afternoon was damp and cloudy, and Bonnie awoke to an electrified headache running up and down her optic nerve and a stomach unsuited to anything but blood. She tried some regular food, because she’d always seen Damon, Stefan and Caroline eating it, but apparently it was something you had to get used to because she spent the morning curled unmoving on the couch, waiting for her stomach to settle.

She was already adopting a nocturnal schedule, and she wondered if it was an inherent thing that she had little control over. She spent the previous day rummaging around for a suitable ring of her own, and had settled on a simple silver band, unassuming and plain. It lacked the flamboyance of the Salvatore rings, and the fashion of Caroline’s, but Bonnie thought it was perfect because no one watching her would ever assume such a simple ring held such power. The spell had gone off without a hitch, and she’d returned Damon’s ring to him by quietly leaving it on his nightstand while he was in the shower.

She spent the afternoon with Caroline, who took the time to update her on all the things she could expect now that she was a vampire. Bonnie had a flashback to the way she’d handled the news of Caroline turning all those years ago, the instinctual dose of prejudice that had sprung up – and a new level of shame washed over her. In retrospect, she hated the way she’d lashed out against Caroline just when Caroline could’ve used a friend the most, but the truth was Bonnie had been working through her own issues of guilt and confusion, and Caroline turning had been such a rude shock, such a defining moment in her life – she hadn’t been the friend she could’ve been. Now, when the tables had turned, Caroline was proving to handle it ten times better. She didn’t deserve a friend like Caroline.

Though, there were certain things Bonnie could’ve done without.

“So how hot _is_ the sex, exactly?” Caroline asked. “I heard you guys kept Stefan blushing all night long.”

“You need to stop gossiping about me with Elena!”

“Girls gotta get their kicks somehow.”

“Not by discussing my private life, thank you.”

“Maybe you should learn to control the volume of your sexing, then?”

“Caroline!” Bonnie warned, slightly high-pitched, “We’re changing the subject now.”

She rolled her eyes. “No fun. When me and Tyler hooked up, I told you everything.”

“I never asked,” Bonnie pointed out. “And I’m still traumatized by how much I know about his appetite every time the full moon comes around. TMI, Caroline. Major TMI.”

“Oh, a vampire that can blush,” Caroline teased. “You’re gonna have to get over that quickly. Vamps have better health, better sex, longer life, and a dirtier conscience. And don’t remind me about Tyler and the full moon. I’m still a little pissed that my hubby ditched me for a roadtrip with Jeremy.”

Bonnie sighed. “They needed to do that, Caroline.”

“Yeah, I know. Catharsis and relieving of epic guilt. I get it. I just wish they would have waited until the storm blew over before leaving. I hate when everything is still in limbo.”

Bonnie couldn’t argue with that.

They came to the end of the road where a church stood at one end. The cathedral was falling apart: huge chunks of the vaulted ceiling had collapsed, revealing the dull grey sky overhead, and had burried the length of several pews under piles of dust and debris. It had been abandoned for well over two-dozen years, the forgotten church resting almost at the edge of the town’s limits.

Outside, they also found Damon’s bike, resting idly with its kickstand up.

“Damon’s here?” Caroline asked her.

“Apparently,” Bonnie answered, bewildered, and together they entered the abandoned church to find Damon standing near the entrance.

“What are you doing here?” Caroline asked him.

“Good question,” Damon answered, and he was wearing his ring again, flashing Bonnie an acknowledging smirk. “I just got a text from Lucy to meet you here. You could have waited up for me to get out of the shower.”

“I was in a rush,” Bonnie replied. “Lucy texted me the same thing and said it was urgent.”

“Besides,” Caroline added. “You are a distraction to our girl time. I’ve barely had any time to spend with Bonnie since she’s been back in town. It’s all epic doom and boinking you. She was my best friend first. It’s only fair that there’s some seniority established here.”

Damon smiled lazily. “Barbie, I’d still get first dibs.”

Caroline rolled her eyes. “See, Damon, you know what your problem is? God gave you a brain and a penis, but only enough blood to run one at a time.”

“And this is where I interrupt the conversation,” Lucy greeted suddenly.

They whirled to find Lucy settled idly in the last pew, arm slung across the back of the bench. She eyed Bonnie with a quirk of a brow, a familiar brand of amusement at the fact that she’d startled all three vampires. She looked better than yesterday; considering yesterday Bonnie had nearly eaten her, that wasn’t saying much, but there was confidence in Lucy’s eyes again, and she looked more at ease in her skin rather then the skittish attitude she’d given Bonnie the entire day yesterday, not that Bonnie could blame her much.

Bonnie stepped closer, while Caroline and Damon hung back for a moment. “Hey. Haven’t seen you since yesterday.”

“Yeah,” Lucy said, glancing away quickly. “Kinda had things to do.”

Bonnie paused, uneasily. “Lucy, I never apologized for—”

“Hey, hey,” Lucy cut in, quickly. “It’s cool. So my vamp cousin tried to drain me? I always take life with a grain of salt.” She shrugged. “Though I won’t lie: a slice of lemon and a shot of tequila helped me last night, too.”

Caroline walked up to them, interrupting, “Uh, Lucy, why did you invite three vampires to a church? Kinda seems in poor tastes.”

Lucy leaned forward, bracing elbows on her knees, and her expression was guarded. “It’s sacred ground.”

“And?”

“It blocks certain spells,” Bonnie answered. “The effects of the Judeo-Christian religious symbols have a counter effect to other elements, mainly those of Wiccan influence. It leaves the place particularly susceptible to weaknesses in any spells. In this case, it might – heavy emphasis on _might_ – provide a crack in whatever spell Ethan is using to watch me.”

She heard clapping behind her, and glanced back to discover her mother leaning in the doorway, looking amused. “Comets flying overhead, notwithstanding,” Bethany added. “Fells Church is a bit of an exception, but you get brownie points for the research anyway.”

Shock went through Bonnie, swallowing her ability to form words, but Lucy stood up like she’d been expecting Bethany.

“Don’t worry,” Lucy said in assurance. “She’s here only to talk.”

“What the hell?” Caroline said, facing off against Bethany. “We don’t talk with psychopathic bitches that torture and kill.”

“Funny,” Bonnie’s mother remarked, “coming from a vampire.”

Caroline’s face vamped out, and Lucy called out to stop her, but it was Bonnie’s sudden hand in the air that held Caroline back from attacking. “What are you doing here?” Bonnie asked her mother.

“I wanted to talk,” Bethany answered. “I got in touch with Lucy last night, and she arranged for this little meeting. I was hoping for a family meeting; I didn’t know you’d bring along your little friends.” She looked to Caroline and Damon as she said it, glaring with displeasure at their uninvited presence. Caroline only beamed back with a biting smile, and Damon just invaded Bonnie’s personal space in the way that he always did, making it clear that neither one of them would move. “I want to speak with my daughter alone, thank you.”

“Oh, well, you know what they say?” Damon returned. “Life is a series of small disappointments punctuated by the occasional crushing disappointment. You’ll just have to live with our presence.”

Bethany glared at Lucy. “I told you I wanted to meet with Bonnie alone.”

“And shocker, dear Auntie,” Lucy answered. “I don’t trust you.”

“But you trust vampires?”

“More than you,” Lucy answered, and Bonnie felt a new rush of gratitude for her cousin. With one long look exchanged, Bonnie realized whatever residue of awkwardness that stood between them because of the prior day’s events had now vanished. With Lucy, Bonnie had always been on solid ground, an unbreakable bond of sisterhood. Thank god for that.

“Four against one?” Bethany mused. “Hardly fair. C’mon, I came here in peace, but I won’t stay if you’re going to threaten me with two vampires on top of two witches.”

Bonnie glared. “I’m a witch and a vampire, or didn’t you get the memo?”

Bethany’s face fell, a streak of grief flashing across before she looked away and squared her shoulders. “Send the other vampires away or I leave.”

“That’s assuming you have an option,” Damon threatened. “What part of four against one did you not get?”

Bethany’s face hardened again, turning to Damon with a warning – and Bonnie stepped forward. “Don't,” Bonnie warned, before her mother decided to demonstrate what she thought of those odds. If she knew her mother at all, the odds weren’t stacked so neatly to one side. Bethany had some trick up her sleeve; she’d never arrange a meeting like this without some sort of escape plan or measures in place to ensure her own safety. “What do you want?”

“Send the others away, first,” Bethany said. “I want to speak with you in private.”

Bonnie studied her mother with her lips pressed into a thin line, feeling restrained hostility and distrust work through her veins. Bethany looked a little more stressed than the last time Bonnie had seen her, morose and tired, mouth pulled long, eyes narrowed and sharp. She could also see the dusky bruising of too little sleep and too much worry under Bethany ’s eyes, but she was going to get little sympathy from Bonnie. Still, there was not so much as a grey hair or tiny lines around Bethany ’s eyes, despite being the parent of a young adult and a woman that must have seen a lot of chaos in her time.

With a slow exhale, Bonnie acknowledged that it didn’t matter much that what had happened between them had been Ethan’s manipulation at play; she still didn’t trust Bethany. She didn’t trust her own mother and maybe she never would again, no matter what justifications there were. That, of course, stung – but Bonnie was getting used to the feeling of stinging pain.

“Damon stays,” Bonnie declared firmly, as a compromise. “I’ll let the others go.”

Bethany studied her. “You don’t have to fear me. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you.”

“Apparently it was still on the list, though. Damon _stays_.”

Bethany took a deep, bracing breath – and then nodded.

Lucy and Caroline traded looks with each other before looking to Bonnie, but she felt Damon step up beside her and the unified front apparently did something to assuage them. They left without another word, though Bonnie’s advanced hearings picked up the fact that Caroline immediately pulled out her cell phone when they reached the outside and was calling up Stefan.

“So,” Bethany began. “You choose your vampire boyfriend for backup, rather than a fellow Bennett witch like your cousin? Interesting.”

“It’s smart,” Damon declared. He settled down like he didn’t have a care in the world, folding his long legs a little as he leaned against the pew beside Bonnie. His body was warm and he smelled familiar and sharp, and it was comforting to know he’d have her back no matter what. “Bonnie can handle any witchy-juju by herself. Me? My talents lie in maiming and killing with my bare hands.”

Bethany glared at him. “You don’t scare me at all.”

“That makes you exceptionally arrogant,” Bonnie answered for Damon, “not brave.”

Bethany rolled her eyes and walked down an aisle, between two rows of pews, and the half-broken and stained-colored glass windows reflected the sunlight in hues of green and red onto her mother’s face. Bonnie knew if she looked in a reflection, she would share more than a few similar traits to the woman in front of her – the same shade of skin, the thick hair, the eyes, and for a brief flash, Bonnie hated that she shared such similarities with Bethany.

She eyed her mother distrustfully. “What are you doing here?”

Bethany twisted around, walking further down the aisle away from her with a few backwards steps. “What I’ve always been doing. Trying to save your life. We can’t speak much in details because I don’t know if the sacred grounds will actually serve as protection against Ethan’s watchful eyes, but I needed to tell you why Ethan turned you.”

“So you’d finish refining the Spell of Undoing,” Bonnie answered, knowingly – and got a flash of surprise from Bethany. “Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.”

Damon lifted to his feet. “Did you do it? Did you figure out a way to do the spell without any consequences?”

He sounded far more interested in that than Bonnie had been expecting.

“Yes,” Bethany answered after a lengthy beat, in a rather reserved manner. “But there’s other complications.”

“Ethan will be expecting it,” Bonnie supplied, “and we can’t let him get his hands on it.”

There was another hint of surprise from Bethany. “You’ve figured out quite a bit, haven’t you?”

“She’s clever like that,” Damon quipped, rolling his eyes. “She also has a bit of magical juju, and so do you. I fail to see how one little warlock can compete against that. What’s the problem?”

“That’s your conclusion?” Bethany threw back in a hiss. “What, did you just get tired of _thinking_? If it were that simple, I would have long ago handled him. The problem is Ethan has been recruiting. But don’t take my word for it. I’ve got reliable intelligence.”

She turned on her heels and left through the corridor briefly, returning a moment later dragging a familiar vampire alongside her. Maggie, Ethan’s pet vampire – bound, gagged and looking very annoyed. Maggie had burns and bruises all alongside the right side of her body, like she’d been left in sunlight for a while. The fact that Maggie hadn’t healed already indicated it had been a while since she’d last fed; probably just as long as she’d been in the custody of Bethany.

Bethany ripped off the gag, and ordered, “Tell them.”

Maggie grit her teeth, and they looked bloody but not from a recent feeding. Her jaw was bruised, and her gums had filled with her own blood; Bonnie wondered how long and hard she’d been tortured. “Ethan is amassing a group of vampires to attack you.”

“Yeah?” Damon stepped forward, sounding utterly unconcerned. “And how exactly is he gaining such loyalty?

“Power,” Maggie answered bluntly. “He’s gathering more and more every day, and when he gets his hands on the Spell of Undoing, they’ll be no stopping him.”

“Except,” her mother tacked on, artfully, “for us.”

Bonnie stared, incredulous. “You expect us to work together?”

Bethany kept her face impassive. “We have no choice. If you want to live as a human, then we have to work together.”

Everything she knew about her mother told Bonnie that Bethany had been preparing for this day all her life; when she’d need to save Bonnie from turning into the monster-vampire that so many warned about – but Bonnie still had trouble relating the image of a devoted mother-figure to the woman who stood there now.

“He’ll see you coming a mile away,” Maggie taunted, a bit snidely. “He knows your strengths and weaknesses, and he’s been planning against you two for months. Go ahead, Bethany. Save your daughter from her fate – but Ethan will get his hands on what he wants. He will be there, _watching_ you.”

“Keep talking,” Bethany replied easily. “I never do get tired of hearing your run your mouth off. Makes your next round of screaming under torture just so much more fun.”

Bonnie had a swift flashback to Ethan’s taunting words from the last time they’d met. _You don’t know your mother at all, and she’s a lot like you. Stubborn, independent, willing to do anything to save the people she loves. In another life, one without your new lover, you would have turned out just like her. Just as stubborn, just as ruthless, and just as distrusting of vampires._ Bonnie wasn’t sure she would ever have gotten such pleasure out of torturing a vampire, but she could see how her once-hatred of them could have twisted her worldview around just as much as it had done for Bethany. The thought sickened Bonnie.

“I don’t trust you,” Bonnie declared, and watched as the comment hit its mark, eliciting a harsh flinch from her mother. “You’ve done nothing but lie and manipulate and torture, even kill.”

“I never lied about why I was doing any of it,” her mother argued. “You think it was easy? My entire life, ever since you were six years old – I spent in the pursuit of one thing. Saving you from yourself. Saving you from turning into a destructive vampire that would ruin this town – and now here you are, a vampire with a boyfriend who spent the majority of his life shedding the innocent blood of this town’s citizens. It’s all coming to pass, isn’t it? And I’m not even asking for your gratitude in stopping it. I have fought for your peace my entire life.”

“Fighting for peace is like fucking for virginity,” Damon offered in a twisted voice. “You could have come to her as her mother, you know? She would have listened. Instead you went the way of _Psycho_.”

“If you had an inkling of everything I’ve sacrificed for my daughter, the woman you claim to care about, then you wouldn’t be treating me like an enemy.”

“Witch,” Damon snapped. “You killed my brother. An enemy was all you were ever going to be from that point on.”

“Get over it,” Bethany warned. “You may have wormed your way into my daughter’s good graces, but as far as I’m concerned, it’ll be your influences that will set Bonnie on the path to destruction.”

“Stop it, both of you!” Bonnie cut in, stepping in between. “Stop talking about me like I’m not here.”

Maggie started laughing. “Wow. Talk about in-laws bickering. This is almost amusing to watch.”

Bethany shoved the vampire down so that Maggie collapsed inelegantly onto a pew. Maggie glared up, but Bethany didn’t seem concerned in the slightest by the level of malice in the stare. Fortune favored the brave, and apparently her mother either had balls of steel or was holding an advantage over the vampire that Bonnie couldn’t see.

“Give me a chance,” Bethany said. “The night of the full moon, when magic will be at its highest, I can prove to you that all I’ve ever wanted was your continued welfare. I can turn you human again.”

“Ethan is hoping for just that.”

“Let him come,” Bethany argued. “We’ll fight him together.”

It was an impassioned plea, and Bonnie was tempted by it, even despite herself. A promise to return to her human state, without a single drop of blood spilt or an innocent harmed – it was too good to be true. Her mother wasn’t a forthcoming woman, and Ethan presented a whole host of problems by himself. Could Bonnie really risk that?

“He’ll be watching,” Maggie singsonged, cruelly. “He’s probably watching you right now, and whatever you plan, he’ll see it coming. You won’t stand a chance.”

Maggie was right, of course. If they played it this obvious, then there was no chance they could surprise Ethan and take him down. Bonnie looked to Damon, and took a breath as a slow theory began to unfold, a possibility on way to shift the advantage.

 _I’ve got a reckless idea_ , she told him, through the bond, and a moment later, Damon gave a dark smile.


	18. Chapter 18

“Ethan,” Bonnie choked out, voice raw from pain. “My turn.”

She stepped out of the trap, surrounded by the bodies of her loved ones. Ethan had a reputation for being ruthless and had demonstrated it more than a few times, but this – Elena was dead. Lucy was dying. Caroline was in trouble. And everybody else’s lives were still in danger. This had all been disastrous on an epic scale, and while the ache of her loss was devastating, Bonnie got it now. She understood what turned her into that vision of warning, that vampire of destruction. She realized what would be the only thing in the entire world that would drive her into turning off her humanity.

The death of her loved ones.

“I told you not to make an enemy of me,” Ethan warned. “Now look at you. Such potential, wasted.”

“Y’know,” she returned, darkly. “For a man so calculating, there’s one obvious possibility you overlooked entirely.”

And Bonnie flipped the switch.

 

~~~~~

Twenty-Four Hours Earlier…

After two weeks of waiting, of planning, of hashing over their strategy and looking out for all the consequences – after two weeks of that, life felt like it had suddenly ground to a standstill. Bonnie rested along the cushioned bench near the library window, knees drawn up against her chest as she stared vacantly out at the expanse of the Salvatore backyard. Their boarding house rested on nearly seven acres of wilderness, and the nearest neighbor was three miles down the road. It was intentional, of course – this distance. Stefan had mentioned once that the property was handed down the Salvatore family tree with the express condition that no one parceled off the land or disturbed the general ambiance of the property.

She liked this spot, particularly, staring out at the east from the library window. The cushioned bench felt comfy and well-used, the kind of place that had seen history unfold through those windows, a spot where two sons of the Civil War could sit and read a book and brood about their respective pasts. The light was good, too: she liked the design of the window and how the diffused white moonlight shone through the pane glass. Drinking in the dark was a sad bastard activity, and though she knew Damon must have partaken in more than his fair share of the activity, she knew the library was his favorite room in the house, and that had to mean something. He couldn’t have spent his entire time in this room in debauchery.

“What are you doing up?” Elena asked, announcing her presence from behind. “It’s nearly five in the morning, Bonnie. You should be getting some rest for tomorrow.”

The next day brought the full moon, and who knew what would happen then? Bonnie had slept fitfully, starting awake at every strange noise, and then there had been the telling absence of Damon beside her. It had finally been too much and Bonnie had conceded defeat against the slumber gods a few hours ago.

But to Elena, Bonnie looked over and offered the easier explanation. “Damon called me up an hour ago.” She drew her legs closer against her chest, resting her chin on her knees. “What’s your excuse?”

Elena offered a small look. “Anxiety.” Bonnie knew that, mainly because she’d been unintentionally eavesdropping on the house’s occupants all night long. Elena was anxious, and Stefan was broody. She wondered if Damon ever got tired at how predictable they were, or if he secretly enjoyed it. Elena walked over to her and took the seat opposite against the window. “What did Damon say?”

“Mission accomplished,” Bonnie replied simply, because it was a secret, something they had to talk about in code and vague declarations, just in case Ethan was watching through whatever spell he was using to eavesdrop on her life. Bonnie was getting a little tired of always watching what she said, or what she heard – two weeks of tiptoeing around her own life was enough to drive anyone insane, and Bonnie had never really been the patient type. “He should be on the flight back now.”

Elena nodded. “Caroline said she could pick him up from the airport while you go... do that thing you need to do.”

“Yeah,” Bonnie said, though a part of her would have rather gone to pick up Damon.

Three days of separation, and it was insane how much Bonnie missed him – insane, and a little bit scary. How she’d ever let Damon Salvatore bury into her life so deeply, she’d never really know. But missing him like crazy or not, Bonnie had too many things to do tomorrow, and one of them was meeting up with her mother.

Bonnie glanced out the window again. Bethany had kept contact to a minimum. In the last two weeks, they’d only communicated a handful of times and Bonnie wasn’t sure if she was disappointed by that or relieved. She still didn’t fully trust Bethany, but it was difficult reconciling that with the faint hope that maybe her mother had been entirely upfront about her motivations after all.

“Bonnie,” Elena called softly. “It isn’t too late to back out on this, y’know?”

Bonnie shook her head. “You know Ethan won’t stop, not ever. I don’t want him watching over me for the rest of my life.”

“There are other ways.”

But none that would work, Bonnie knew. Ethan was after the Spell of Undoing, then Bonnie was going to make sure he got more out of the deal than he ever wanted. Bonnie’s rage was weighted by the anxiety of the upcoming events, though – it was a risk, doing this. All this, just for a chance for Bonnie to turn human again while getting their shot at Ethan. She wasn’t sure it was worth it, and she had no right to ask anyone to risk their lives for it – but they’d had this conversation a dozen times over, and everybody had agreed. Ethan would come for them, one way or another – so they might as well make it worth it.

Bonnie wrapped the blanket tighter around her shoulders and looked out the window. The moon was nearly full, fading in and out behind half-hearted clouds, its iridescent light enough for her vampire eyes to see further than Bonnie could’ve ever imagined. In the woods of their backyard, Bonnie could see a sharp bluster of wind blow the trees back and forth in a soft sway. The world outside looked like some dreamlike-state, but the world always seemed isolating and captivating just before dawn.

Elena sighed, and Bonnie turned to study her friend’s face in the darkened room. Bonnie’s eyesight was a thing of wonder now; under normal circumstances she’d only have been able to pick up the faint outline of Elena’s profile in such dim lighting, but Bonnie could make out the dark shadows under Elena’s eyes, the faint hint of blue that suggested lack of sleep and growing concern.

“Hey, I’ll be all right,” Bonnie told her in reassurance, knowingly. “Ethan isn’t going to be the one to take me down.”

“This all started because of me,” Elena whispered, like it was a confession she’d been holding back. “I called you back to Mystic Falls, and ever since then, it’s been a series of dominos. You saved Stefan’s life, and you make Damon a better man when you’re around, but Bonnie, if something happened to you, I don’t think I’d ever forgive myself for calling you back to—”

“Hey,” Bonnie cut in quickly. “Don’t think that. Don’t you dare. It was my choice to come back, and the more… the more I stay here, the more I realize maybe I should have never left. This town is screwed up, but it’s the only home I’ve ever known. It’s my home, and you’re my family. Nothing will ever change that.”

Elena offered a watery smile. “Promise me something. Promise me the day after tomorrow, we’ll have breakfast with the boys? You, me, Stefan and Damon.”

“Pancakes and blood?”

“And a cup of coffee or two,” Elena added. “Some blueberry muffins. You like my muffins.”

Bonnie laughed. “Elena, if Damon heard you say that, he’d turn it into some lesbian joke.”

“So what else is new?” Elena tossed back with a grin. “C’mon, we’ll let Stefan and Damon pretend to fight over the last cup of blood, and you and me can freak them out by talking about redecorating the place now that there’s two women living here and—”

“I’m not living here!” Bonnie protested.

Elena rolled her eyes. “You’ve been staying here over a month, and I’m about to assign you the third shift in the laundry rotation. You are so totally living here.”

Bonnie grinned again, then quickly sobered up. Promising anything beyond tomorrow was a bit much, too much, considering the dangers of the day that lay in front of them. But after a beat, Bonnie leaned over, pressed a hand against Elena’s hand, and nodded. “I promise. A double date for breakfast, the day after tomorrow.”

Elena was confident in her reply, though anxious. “I’m holding you to that.”

 

~~~~~

The plane landing was rough, and Damon was a little stiff as he stood up, aching from a lack of movement. He got his luggage out of the overhead bin, and followed the masses down the cabin towards the exit. On the train to the terminal, crowded with teenagers and businessmen and a miserable wailing toddler, he kept his anxiousness at bay. He kept playing with his ring, twisting the piece of jewelry in his hand like somehow he’d gotten unused to it, and the entire time he thought about Bonnie.

When he finally made it out to the baggage claim, he saw Caroline waiting for him and had to crush the surge of disappointment. He’d been hoping for Bonnie, even though he knew her day would be filled with other things. It was pathetic how much he’d missed her these last few days, and the realization that his reunion with her was delayed by yet another few hours left his mood more sour than it should have.

He hefted his shoulder bag back up and smiled at Caroline, and she returned, “You look like hell,” and her voice was flippant, crystal clear like a bell over the echoing chaos of the airport. “God, what happened?”

“Mission accomplished,” he only answered, because only Bonnie knew the plan, and besides, Damon was not in a mood to talk about his trip in any length or detail. His body still felt the residue of pain, and if he was being perfectly honest with himself, he knew a lot of that was probably just his mind playing tricks on him. Fucking witches. He may have been in love with one, but Christ Almighty, they were a torturous bunch when they wanted to be.

They walked out to her car in silence, and when he climbed into the passenger seat, folding his long legs into the ridiculously small space in her car, broke the silence with, “How’s everything been?”

Caroline shrugged. “Tyler and Jeremy came back the other day, without much to show for their little trip. Apparently Ben’s sister wasn’t appreciative of their visit, even after they delivered her Ben’s message.”

“They ever tell you the message?”

“No,” Caroline replied, a little annoyed. “Even Tyler didn’t know. Jeremy is kinda intense when it comes to things like that. The message was just for Ben’s sister.”

Damon rested his head back against the headrest, exhausted. “Yeah, and? What about everybody else?”

Caroline pulled the car onto the interstate, and god bless her, cut off three lanes of cars by sweeping across the stretch of highway so that she could get into the carpool lane in seven seconds flat. “Ethan’s pet vampire Maggie is locked in the cellar basement,” she said, ignoring the blare of horns, “and she’s as annoying and bitchy as ever. Alaric is in town again, but his leg is still in a cast and he’s got crutches.” Fantastic, Damon thought. His mobility would be a problem when shit hit the fan. At least Alaric’s aim would still hold, though. “Lucy and Bonnie are meeting with Bethany now. They’ve picked the back woods behind your house as the place where they’re going to perform the spell tonight. They’re doing their witchy preparations now.”

Damon tensed, but didn’t say anything. He did a quick run-through of their resources. He knew that Stefan and Caroline were all geared up for a throw down against whatever vampires that Ethan might throw at them, and Lucy was always confident she had a few tricks up her sleeve that no one would see coming, but Tyler would be out of play because of the full moon, and likely Elena or Jeremy would be on werewolf-babysitting duty for the night.

The only element that remained elusive and a question mark was Bonnie’s mother. Damon still didn’t trust her.

“Broody and silent,” Caroline observed. “Such fantastic company.”

Damon rolled his eyes. “Sorry, not broody. Too busy thinking about doing naughty things to Bonnie to qualify as broody.”

“I could potentially believe that, but it’d be a little insulting to Bonnie if doing that left you with the constipated look you just had on.”

“Constipated? Honey, my expressions never make me look constipated.”

“Have you ever looked at yourself? The number of contortions your face can sometimes do would make a gymnast wince. Admit it: you were brooding, and it’s been a while since I’ve seen you like that. Though, I gotta say, thank god it’s not over Elena anymore.”

“Caroline, a word of advice: a shut mouth gathers no foot.”

Caroline rolled her eyes. “What? I’m just saying, nice to see you concerned about a girl you love and are actually with. The whole longing routine was so Twilight.”

“Says the girl who once loved those books.”

“I distinctly remember blocking out the memory of that.” A car horn blared again as Caroline cut off another truck, and judging by the speed Caroline was going, they’d reached home in record time. “Hey, Damon?”

“Yeah?”

Her carefree act dropped, revealing a pinched expression of worry as she chewed her lower lip. “Just how bad is it going to get tonight?” and her voice was small as she asked it, so much that Damon almost lied.

Almost.

Damon paused, then declared, “Bad. Very, very bad.”

 

~~~~~

Bonnie stood up, dusting off her knees and handing Lucy the grimoire. "You all right?" Lucy asked. Bonnie probably looked a little pale around the lips, and uncomfortable silence settled in as Bonnie attempted to answer her – but her mother was too close by, and Bonnie didn’t want to show any weakness in front of Bethany.

“You know we'll have the whole area protected,” Lucy told her unnecessarily. "The spell should take ten minutes, twelve tops, and we'll be able to hear you the entire time. Just ‘cause it’s you and her,” Lucy added emphasis and a little malice to the latter, nodding her head back at Bethany, “doesn’t mean we aren’t around the corner, ready and waiting.”

Bonnie nodded, shaking her head. "Yeah, of course," she said, and flashed a quick smile up at her cousin. "I'm good," she said, and rolled her neck a little, stretching. She swept her hair up with one hand and tied the strands into a bun at the back of her head. Though her mother had assured Bonnie that the Spell of Undoing could be performed without any side-effects, Bonnie wasn’t taking any chances. Everybody would need to be far away from them as the spell was performed, which – while protecting them from any unintended consequences – also meant that Bonnie would be alone and vulnerable with her mother, while her mother cast a powerful and potentially devastating spell.

They could make all the preparations they wanted, but in the end, Bonnie would have to trust her mother.

She wasn’t sure she was ready for that.

Bethany walked up to them, interrupting, "Lucy, go make sure we have the proper amount of Altheae Root and leaves," she instructed, and then gave Bonnie a quick once-over; Bethany had insisted on the preparations of the spell being done during broad daylight by Bonnie, although she personally thought it was a more so that Bethany could order people around some more. She seemed to like doing that. "Did you complete the aggression spell?"

“Yes,” Bonnie answered, roughly. “Believe it or not, a spell like that doesn’t require much of me.”

“Don’t get defensive,” Bethany warned. “I was only asking. The spell you just practiced is enough to incapacitate more than a dozen vampires. It’s powerful. Powerful enough that it could very easily kill a witch like Lucy if she tried to perform it.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Lucy returned, snidely.

“Only fact.”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Lucy said, though a hint of warning and exasperation coated the words. “Any other sage pieces of wisdom, you can really keep to yourself.”

Bonnie watched as Bethany stared coolly, and to an outsider it might’ve seemed that she remained unaffected by Lucy’s taunt, but Bonnie couldn’t help but wonder about the stinging bite of being distrusted by kin.

There was so much rotten history, it was hard to be anything but distrustful with Bethany.

A small part resisted, though. Because no matter what, no matter how many times she told herself it meant little, Bethany was her mother. Distrust and matters of the heart didn’t always see eye-to-eye, because one was ruled by logic and the other anything but. It didn’t help that Bonnie still didn’t know where she stood with Bethany, even after weeks of being forced to work side-by-side with her. Bonnie had always been headstrong, but a downside to that trait meant she could also be quick to judge and then obstinate about that judgment. Was she being too hard on her mother now? Stefan’s orchestrated death hung between like the rank smell of a corpse, but there was merit in what Bethany was doing now, what she was risking, all for Bonnie’s sake.

Bonnie wasn’t blind to that.

A memory floated to the surface. There had been a stretch of weeks after her mother had first left town, when Bonnie had barely been seven years old, and her father had become utterly empty, translucent with grief. It had been painful to watch, even for a child, not in the least because she had been suffering from her own bout of abandonment issues. Bonnie had cried and wailed, and her father had handled her with a delicacy and patience she could still remember to this day, but when he thought she wasn’t looking, Bonnie remembered all too clearly the naked, grief-stricken look that had taken up residence on her father’s face. She would never forget that look. She would never forgive the person who had placed that look on her father’s face.

It was a little surreal to realize in retrospect that her mother had done all of that for Bonnie’s sake.

“Where were you all these years?” Bonnie asked, because she just couldn’t help herself.

Bethany looked up to regard Bonnie with a long stare, before she dropped her attention back to the bag of herbs in her hand. “I spent the first three months after leaving you as alone and as far from Virginia as Earth's geography allowed. I avoided cities all together, skirted towns whenever I could. I stayed in a small village in Africa where an inyanga taught me.”

“Inyanga?” Bonnie repeated.

“Zulu for witch doctor," Bethany said briskly. “But don’t let the translation fool you; he actually knew very little of witchcraft. He was more of a medicine man. I followed him because he was the first stop in finding the ingredients that I needed for the Spell of Undoing. Mainly,” Bethany answered, finally looking up, “the red gems.”

The one that Felicia Heritage had lost her family over; one half of the pair was in her mother’s custody, and the other in Felicia’s.

“I spent some time in Congo, then Kenya. I didn't think about where I would go next; picking a destination implied desire, and I went where the clues took me.”

“For nearly twenty years,” Bonnie added, a little breathless.

Bethany looked up. “Yes.”

The gravity of her sacrifice left Bonnie speechless for a second, before she recovered enough to realize they had been left alone. Lucy was a discreet distance away, and the entire forest around them seemed to have fallen silent in respect to what was happening between mother and daughter. Nearly two-thirds of her life, Bonnie had harbored resentment and anger against her mother, compounded by issues of betrayal when she’d come back into town and had promptly brought about the death of one of Bonnie’s closest friends. There was that bit where her mother had also repeatedly tried to strip Bonnie’s powers from her, and all the direct and indirect ways her mother’s actions had led to complications in Bonnie’s life. All of that, a building mountain of condemnation and distrust, and suddenly Bonnie wasn’t sure she had one-tenth of the strength her mother had.

To do all that, and be labeled a villain – only a mother could sacrifice that much.

“Why did you never come back?” Bonnie asked. “You could have visited. You could have written or called, or hell, even texted. Something to tell me I still had a mother in this world.”

“Your father made it clear,” Bethany explained, as Bonnie began to see the cracks in her mother’s armor. “If I left, I would stay gone. I decided to do anything in between being your mother full time and being what I needed to become – that would be too cruel to you. I made a choice, and it was a hard one, but it’s one I hope you understand now. What I did – what I had to do – I did as a mother, but it changed me. Hardened me. I left Mystic Falls as an innocent woman. I am no longer that woman.”

“And what? You didn’t want to influence me in that way?”

“I didn’t want you to become me,” Bethany breathed out, rather sickly. “Little did I know you’d follow in the footsteps of your Grams. Bennett Witches. I should have known you’d find your talents, with or without my intervention. I’m sorry you had to go through that alone.” And there – there was the first and only genuine apology Bonnie had ever heard from her mother, about anything. “Your father,” Bethany continued, a little awkwardly. “Was he… was he happy in the end?”

Bonnie thought about lying. She thought about selling the truth out to make a painful conversation less painful, but it would have been a disservice to all involved. “He never stopped loving you,” she answered. “Not ever.”

Bethany closed her eyes, and Bonnie thought, Fuck, that's it, that's the bit that's going to make her cry. But after a moment, Bethany's shoulders started to shake, and a small laugh bubbled out of her. "Shit," Bethany said, and brought a hand to cover her mouth, eyes pinched when she looked away towards the sun. "That man was so stubborn about everything, wasn’t he?”

Bonnie was quiet for a beat. “Yeah, he was.”

This was too much, too painful. Bonnie was about to add something else, but her throat was closing off and she could feel the thready undercurrent of restrained grief, pent up for too many years, just waiting to burst free. Before she could manage any words, the distant rumble of a car pulling up to the driveway alerted her to an arrival. Realization shot through her, and Bonnie wiped at some tears that escaped out of the corner of her eye. Damon was finally back.

“Go,” Bethany told her, without ever indicating that she had heard the approach in the first place.

Bonnie hesitated, and her mood didn’t allow for anything close to resembling a smile – in fact, she felt fairly run-through by a sword. Without a word, Bonnie turned on her heels and walked back into the house. There was the faint echo of the front door opening and then the familiar voice of Caroline calling out. Bonnie wove her way through the maze of furniture and quickly bounded up the steps to the foyer where she spotted Caroline setting down some luggage by the door.

“Hey,” Caroline greeted, looking up, “Look what I brought home.”

Damon walked through the open door, and Bonnie stopped, staring. She gave a smile, and it must’ve been watery because both Caroline and Damon froze a little. The conversation with her mother had ruined whatever sense of composure Bonnie had, and it was suddenly too much because while she’d kept it together in front of Bethany, her friends were another matter.

“I’m just gonna…” Caroline trailed off, waving a hand to indicate her path of exit. She sensed this was a moment she could bow out of gracefully. “Yeah.” Caroline left down the hallway, but Bonnie wasn’t paying attention.

Damon strode over and pulled her against him, and Bonnie practically collapsed. Damon rubbed his hands up and down her sides, seeming to realize she was working through a complicated mess and needed a little comfort. She thought about her father and her mother – the sacrifices Bethany had made. Bonnie didn’t know what to make of Bethany, except that whatever animosity stood between them before could no longer stand uncontested.

“Look at you. A couple of days without me and you’re a mess.”

Bonnie stifled a laugh. “You know what sucks?”

“Parental figures?” Damon offered, proving a mind-reader yet again.

Bonnie paused, and pulled back, admitting, “Not as much as you would think.”

“Bonnie Bennett, going soft,” he teased in a low, husky tone, sweeping a hand below her ear. His fingers traced her jaw line and down her neck with a single finger, then tipped her chin up. “You’re going to be such a horrible influence on me.”

She hummed in response, lifting to her toes so that she could kiss him.

“Guys!” Caroline shouted, startling them. She stood in the hallway, holding a phone in her hand, looking pale and alarmed. “It’s Elena,” she declared. “Ethan’s got her.”

“What?” Bonnie exclaimed, detangling from Damon.

Caroline held the phone out to Bonnie. “It’s for you.”

Bonnie snatched the phone quickly, and apparently Caroline’s shouting had drawn the attention of her mother and Lucy because the two other women were making their way into the house just as Bonnie held the phone to her ear. “If you hurt Elena,” Bonnie threatened as a greeting, “I will make you beg for—”

“Save it,” Ethan warned, amused. “You really didn’t think we’d wait on your timetable, did you? I know you’ve been gearing up for a fight, so let’s move up the timetable a little and eliminate some players. You, your mother, and my vamp Maggie – all three of you, come to the industrial district at the edge of town in twenty minutes. 4315 E. Tabor Street. Bring whatever ingredients you need for the Spell. We’ll manage well enough here. Come alone, just you three – or the little Gilbert girl dies.”

Before she could respond, he hung up.

 

~~~~~

“She’s already dead,” Bethany declared, shaking her head. She easily made her way to the middle of the crowd and Bonnie stared at her, unsettled. “Ethan won’t let Elena live, no matter what. If we walk in, it’s suicide for us as well.”

Whatever understanding Bonnie had felt earlier for Bethany, had suddenly vanished again.

“Go to hell, lady,” Jeremy snapped back. “No one asked for your opinion.”

“I’m only saying the obvious,” Bethany returned. “You can all gear up and head to your deaths if you like. Head there, and Ethan will slaughter you. Send Bonnie and me in there, and we’ll be giving him a weapon of mass destruction with the Spell of Undoing. Any way you play this, people die. The only certain death is hers.”

Stefan walked up to Bethany, arms fold at his chest, his stroll slow. “Elena,” he began, eerily calm, “is not going to die today.” His back was to Bonnie, but whatever her mother saw written across the face of Stefan must’ve been intimidating – like, Ripper intimidating – because Bethany straightened a little, lips pressing into a thin line. Stefan turned around, facing the crowd. “Ideas?”

Bonnie paused, standing between the two tall figures of Tyler and Lucy, and behind her, she heard Alaric exhale roughly as he rested his crutches against the wall and leaned against a pillar for support. Caroline was pacing back and forth along the adjacent wall, and Bonnie watched as Jeremy folded his arms against his chest, glaring at Bethany with, from the looks of it, some rather uncharitable thoughts. Across the room, in the corner, Damon was sitting on the arm of one of the corner cushioned chairs, one booted foot set up on the table in front of him and the other foot planted on the leather. He seemed calm and steady with all the agitation around him. Undoubtedly, it was an act.

Elena was being set up as collateral damage.

Stefan had his face turned away toward the window. His expression was set and rigid, staring absently at the view before he came to a decision. “All right, then. We gear up.”

“Stefan,” Bonnie stopped him. “We can’t do that. Ethan would’ve planned for that.”

“Thank you,” Bethany replied, exasperated – but with one well-withering glare from Bonnie, snapped her mouth shut.

“Ethan having Elena changes things,” Damon said, reluctantly agreeing, “We can’t fight like we planned. We need to re-strategize. Come up with something new.”

“In less than a few minutes?” Bonnie added. “Otherwise Bethany and I walk into a trap—” Bethany began to open her mouth with a protest, but Bonnie got in her face, vamped out, lips sneered back to reveal her fangs. “You will help us. Elena is like a sister to me – more of a family than you have ever been. If you care about me at all, you’ll help her. Or walk away right now. Your choice.”

Bethany stared. “She really means that much to you?”

“The fact that you even have to ask that just shows how little you know me.”

“Clearly,” Bethany echoed with mild sarcasm, but the fight seemed to have washed out of her. She settled against the bookshelf behind her, agitated. “You really think walking into that trap is a good idea?”

“Guys,” Tyler cut in. “I’m sorry, but I gotta get going before the sun sets.”

Caroline flashed a look over at him. “I’ll come with. Chain you up and then rejoin everyone as soon as I’m done with that.”

“Can’t,” Damon cut in, but his voice was rather dry. “We need you here.”

After a lengthy beat, Caroline nodded reluctantly. “Fine.” She turned to Tyler. “I’ll see you in the morning?” He stepped up to her and exchanged a quick kiss, then nodded. With that, Tyler left, leaving the rest of the group staring at each other, still at a loss for a plan. “How are we going to do this?”

“I don’t know, but think fast,” Bonnie declared to the room at large. She looked across at Damon for a brief moment, sending a thought across the link to him. It was private and intimate, just meant for him and her, and after a brief beat, Damon nodded back. She didn’t want to do this, but did she have a choice? Elena’s life rested at stake, and there was little time to come up with a new game plan.

The minutes flew by too quickly, and Bonnie eventually declared, “We need to move. There’s no time left.”

Bethany's agitation was apparent. “This is a suicide mission.”

Bonnie stared back, and simply said, “I’ll get Maggie.”

She turned on her heels and strode for the cellar where Maggie was locked up tight and had been nursing her captivity with a belligerent attitude that was a lot more tolerable on Damon. Halfway down the steps, she noticed that Damon was following her. He waited until they were down near the cellar door before he stopped her and pulled her into the enclosed space to the side, where they normally stored their weapons cache.

“What?” Bonnie asked, because she could read the expression on his face and it was conflicted.

“Your mother’s right,” he said. “This is a suicide trap.”

“I know, but what alternative is there? Don’t go and risk Elena’s life?” There was a lengthy pause to her answer, where Damon just stared at her, eyes boring into hers with a look void of anything but dark calculation. Bonnie’s eyes widened, taken aback. “You can’t be serious.”

“Ethan needs you, and that’ll keep Elena alive even if you don’t immediately show up.”

“For how long? For us to do what?”

“Figure out a way out of this that doesn’t involve you walking straight into a trap.”

Bonnie was speechless for a few seconds, trying to wrap her mind around the fact that Damon was advocating a course of action that left Elena in danger longer than necessary. She knew, in some fashion, that he’d gotten over his obsession with Elena some time in the past few months, but it was something altogether shocking realizing he would be willing to risk her life. Once upon a time, Elena’s welfare was his one and only priority.

“I can’t take that risk,” Bonnie said eventually, still floored. “It’s Elena. And Ethan is a bastard.”

Damon closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, like he’d been expecting that answer, and to his credit, didn’t argue about it anymore. He just tugged her up until his mouth was against hers and she felt his hands sweep down her back before settling on the sides of her hips, fingers stretched out and tracing circles on the skin he could reach in the crevice between her shirt and slacks. Her mouth softened against his as she kissed him back.

“Just stay safe,” he told her, a bit desperately, and Bonnie wanted to promise him that she would.

She couldn’t, though.

 

~~~~~

"What do you think I'd have to do," Lucy wondered aloud, loading a shotgun, "to convince everybody I’m suddenly in the desperate need of a pedicure?"

“Got plans?” Damon replied, grabbing a few stakes.

“Nothing special. Had a date lined up for tomorrow.”

“A date?”

“With Alaric,” Lucy tacked on. “Though he isn’t actually aware of it yet.”

Damon tipped her a look, askew, commenting, “That isn’t really a date if the guy doesn’t know about it.”

“Oh, trust me, I can be very convincing,” Lucy said, while loading the last round into her shotgun. He grunted, amused. Lucy rested back for a second, sighing deeply as she looked out at the rest of the people gearing up. “This is going to end bloody, isn’t it?”

“Very,” Damon said. “But more theirs, than ours.”

“Yeah? You know something I don’t? Because I think we’re walking into certain death.” Damon remained quiet, which just made Lucy more curious. “What exactly were you doing the last three days, anyway? Bonnie’s been hush, hush about that.”

Damon closed the weapons cache. “Ready?”

Lucy sighed again. “As I’ll ever be.”

 

~~~~~

As soon as the sun set, they made their way out. “This is going to be fun,” Maggie remarked, as Bonnie and Bethany led her over to the factory building. “Cooped up for two weeks in that damn cellar, and now I finally get to stretch my legs.”

Bonnie exchanged a look with her mother, because a resentful and vengeful vampire like Maggie was the last thing they needed added to the mix, but there was no stopping it now. She returned her focus on to the outside perimeter of the factory, where a growing number of Ethan’s men could be seen. All of them, over a dozen, were vampires. That was as many as Bonnie had been expecting, but she couldn’t afford to defend against them yet until she was sure Elena was safe.

“We should turn back now,” Bethany said again.

Bonnie stalked forward, instead.

Elena’s abductors were apparently very well dressed in vintage suits and dark shades, and appeared strangely out of place and incongruous in the ramshackle warehouse where they were brought. It was a sprawling building set on the lower levels of Mystic Fall’s commercial district. The building was gray and dimly lit, while the streets around it were wet with recent rainfall and muck that dribbled down from the sliding slopes from nearby. A pair of dirty-blond twins stood at either side of the door, while a short, chubby one opened the door for Bonnie.

As Bonnie walked into the darkened room, she scanned the room and breathed out in sharp relief when she found Elena standing in the corner.

They were escorted further inside, where Bonnie and Bethany stopped just at the edge of a chalk outline of a Devil’s Trap. It was the same trap that Felicia Heritage had used against Bonnie while Damon had died and been resurrected as a vampire. It was old magic that looked harmless enough: just an outline of chalk in three concentric circles. Raven’s blood had been spilt on the innermost circle, and if she walked into the circles, Bonnie wouldn’t be able to perform even the simplest of spells. At least, not until the circle was broken from the outside by the absolvent of water or some other liquid.

“Bonnie,” Elena whispered, anguished. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“Of course, she should’ve,” Ethan said, turning a corner and revealing himself, “Bennett witches. God love their predictability.”

“Funny,” Bonnie remarked. “I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

“Me? Predictable? Do tell.”

There was the harsh blunt impact of something hitting the back of her head – and Bonnie went down, crashing forward into the Devil’s Trap – and her first conscious thought was that, predictable or not, Ethan wasn’t subtle. She looked back to see Maggie looming over her, two weeks of repressed hostility unleashed, and another second later, Maggie slammed an elbow back into Bethany’s face and forced her mother to her knees as well. They both were on their knees, snared within the Devil’s Trap.

Bethany glared first at Maggie, then at Ethan. “You really need to hire better help, Ethan.”

Ethan smiled. “You’re the one with the prejudice against vampires. Me? I’m an equal opportunity employer.” He paused, then mused, “So, we have you, we have your daughter, we have a little collateral in the form of the Gilbert Girl. What am I missing?”

“Just one thing,” Bethany answered, looking up. “My willingness to do anything you want.”

Ethan let a long pause draw out. “Yeah?”

Bethany offered a biting smile. “Let Elena go, and I’ll give you what you want. Otherwise, I’ll play you for a fool.”

Bonnie looked over at her in surprise, while Ethan just laughed. “Ah, look. Once again you think you can outsmart me.”

“It certainly helps that I’m smarter.”

“It isn’t going to go down the way you want. That’s why we could never work out. You’re just too arrogant, too stubborn. But I fooled you for a time, didn’t I? Had you going that I was the love of your life—”

“Get over yourself,” Bethany hissed. “You weren’t nearly that good.”

Bonnie just watched as the two traded a look good enough to kill. Whatever history lay between them was coated with subtext, and Bonnie didn’t want to touch it with a ten-foot poll. It was obvious that Ethan’s attention was focused singularly on Bethany. Bonnie normally would’ve protested being overlooked like that, but she just wanted Elena out, and anyway they could do that, she was fine with.

“Hate to interrupt,” Bonnie said, “But a deals on the table. How about an answer? You want my mother to perform the spell, and show you how to do it – then you’re gonna need her cooperation. And you’ve said it all along. We Bennett Witches are a stubborn breed.”

Ethan’s lips pressed into a thin and angry line, looking perturbed by the evolving situation. He seemed to be figuring things out, wheels working in that head of his – and Bonnie tried to keep any emotion off her face because she didn’t want him getting suspicious.

But a second later, Ethan was shaking his head ruefully. “You know, this all could’ve been avoided. I offered both of you, each of you, a truce, an alliance. Both of you turned it down. Now here we are, and you’re trying to bargain with me when you have no chips.”

“Don’t be so arrogant,” Bethany warned.

“Please, I’ve been planning against you for months, Bethany. I know all your moves. And I’ve been watching your daughter, so I don’t even have to guess with her. I know exactly how to get your cooperation.”

He turned towards Elena and removed a knife from his back pocket, and without the slightest forewarning or preamble, jetted out a hand and the knife flew towards Elena and struck her in the chest, dead center. Her head jerked back, a sickening gargle of shock working past her lips, and then she coughed up a trickle of blood. For a full second, Bonnie stared in disbelief, eyes wide and frozen.

Elena’s body fell to the floor.

“Do what I say,” Ethan taunted, while Bonnie still couldn’t process, “Or Bonnie’s next.”

And then it slammed into her, the full impact of what had just happened.

Bonnie’s gag reflex rose and she scrambled forward on her feet, trying to reach Elena but the Devil’s Trap stopped her with a flare of pulsing electricity, a shield that warded her off. Bonnie cried out, and then called out, screaming Elena’s name, shouting her denials, and all the while Elena’s body was a few feet away, so close and yet so far away, and Bonnie tried to hear for a heartbeat, something – anything – but Elena lay unmoving and still. The knife had struck her heart.

Death on impact.

“No, no, no,” Bonnie whispered, choking on a sob. “Please, god – no.”

Bonnie choked out another gasp, crying, and she doubted she would ever stop. Bethany’s arms found their way around Bonnie’s shoulders. “Shh,” Bethany soothed, stroking her hair back and rocking her. “Shh. There’s nothing you can do for her, Bonnie.”

But Bonnie wasn’t paying attention, wasn’t thinking. Elena’s body was all that captivated her attention, as a pool of blood spread out from around her body, and at first Bonnie didn’t want to look away. Couldn’t look away. Elena, her oldest friend, her best friend – the closest thing she had in this world to family. Bonnie felt the shock and grief grip her in earnest, and she was gasping, trying to think of a way to fight this, prevent it.

“You son of a bitch,” Bethany sneered at Ethan.

“Don’t look at me like that. She could have lived, if you’d played by the rules. Now, is your daughter going to be next?”

Bonnie heard that – and then eyes hardened as a brutal anger overwhelmed her.

She’d always wondered how she’d ever turn into the vicious vampire from her nightmares, the one that everybody always warned her about, predicted like some oncoming tornado. Now, Bonnie came to a realization. The fire inside her veins seemed to swell, an anger and grief that had a mind of its own. The Devil’s Trap on the floor beneath her – the one that blocked all her magic – stood as a barrier, but oh, Bonnie could feel her magic fighting it.

“Ethan,” Bonnie said, darkly, looking up. “There’s one thing that you overlooked in all of this. You planned for my mother, but you still didn’t realize what you were doing.”

“And what’s that?”

“You were making your worst enemy. Me.”

Bonnie reached out with her lifebond, sending a message that Damon could pick up – and a moment later, from a far distance away, there was an acknowledging blare of a horn and three seconds later Damon crashed through the sidewall of the factory with Bonnie’s truck. Brick and plaster went flying everywhere – blunt, jarring and loud. Bonnie ducked and covered. Dust and debris kicked up into the air, and when Bonnie finally raised her head, she saw that the truck had ram-rolled right into Maggie, who had been standing near the far wall. She was impaled with a wooden beam that struck her through the chest, and her face was pale and ashen in death.

Ethan climbed to his feet. “Idiots,” he seethed. “You really think your handful of vampires can take on my dozen? Hell, I could kill them all myself—”

“Maybe,” an old voice shot out, feminine and predatory. “Maybe not.”

Felicia Heritage climbed out of passenger side of the truck, a frail woman in her sixties, but Bonnie knew better than most that she wasn’t one to be underestimated. Ethan’s eyes widened as he connected his gaze with the other witch, and he took a small step back.

“You thought you had everything figured out,” Bonnie taunted. “You were watching everything I did, everything I planned. But the one place you could never watch me was here,” she tapped the side of her head, “what I was thinking. And that was a way for me to communicate with Damon through our lifebond. Set something up that you’d never see coming.”

And she’d sent Damon off to New York City again, to recruit Felicia in the battle against Ethan. Her services were brought with the promise that when the time came, Felicia would be the one to kill Ethan.

“So,” Felicia began, with a feral grin.

And chaos broke out.

 

~~~~~

Bonnie was still trapped, and could do nothing but watch as warfare broke out. She couldn’t make out much at first, until she saw Stefan barreling into a vampire across the room and, at the other end, Jeremy firing a shotgun. Damon and Caroline were working side-by-side, and to the corner, Lucy and Alaric were fighting off a pair of vampires with a mix of magic and new-aged vampire-arsenal, the type of shotguns and other conventional firearms that had been converted with Alaric’s touch.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go down, but Bonnie was beyond plans, and so, apparently, were the others. Elena’s body was still crumpled in the corner, so close but still barely out of reach, and the sight of it had fueled everyone into a frenzy. The scent of Elena’s pooling blood reached Bonnie’s senses with a vengeance. The dozen smartly-dressed vampires were putting up a fight, though.

Ethan was to the side, muttering a spell under his breath and fighting off any advancing spells of Felicia with a hefty dose of his own witchcraft, but it was clearly no match. Felicia was powerful; maybe not as powerful as Bonnie, but stronger than perhaps any other witch Bonnie had ever met. A thick fog of energy blanketed the surrounding area, giving Felicia an advantage to maneuver with some intimidation, but Ethan ordered a few of his vampires into assault. The entire warehouse became a play of light and magic, gusts of wind working through the area like a storm.

Felicia eventually started using electricity to disable the vamps, but a lucky shot from one of the vamps blindsided her. She was hit with enough force to stop her acceleration, and Ethan advanced. He whispered one Latin word, and lightning struck out from his fingertips and she flew backward, a scream ripping through her body. Felicia placed a hand to her abdomen; through the material of her clothes she came back with the sticky texture of her own blood.

Ethan stepped forward and blocked the view; Bonnie couldn’t see what happened next. She just heard Felicia’s scream sharply echo out. Bonnie could feel anger thrumming in her veins, and it was building the more she watched the fight. Her skin itched with anticipation, and the thought of killing Ethan with her bare hands was scarily appealing.

Bloodlust and vengeance – Bonnie wanted both against Ethan.

“Careful,” her mother warned, from the side. They were pressed against each other, huddled in the surrounding chaos. “Ethan always has a backup plan.”

Bonnie heard distant footsteps from behind. She turned in time to witness two vampires catch Damon by surprise, grabbing him by the arms and knocking his weapon away. Bonnie called out from across the room, but she was impotent, useless, trapped inside this fucking Devil’s Trap. A wave of horror gripped her as she watched one of the vampires approach Damon with a stake, but then Lucy’s voice was joining the fray.

“Nex ut totus immortalis. Vestri reign has nisus.”

But Bonnie screamed out, “No!” because she knew what Lucy was doing.

All the unfriendly vampires buckled to their knees, clutching their heads as aneurisms exploded inside their brains simultaneously; it was the same spell that Bonnie had been practicing earlier that day. Lucy continued, and Bonnie felt a twisted moment of warring emotions. She was glad the spell was working, but Bonnie remembered her mother’s words from hours ago, the warning – this spell could kill Lucy.

Lucy kept chanting, and sweat trickled from her brow down the side of her face, and her breathing accelerated, now coming in short, panicked huffs. All around her, Ethan’s men were on the ground and Caroline and Damon were using the advantage to stake one after another. Stefan rushed to Elena’s fallen body, and Jeremy and Alaric stood back-to-back, watching everything unfold with wide-disbelieving eyes.

Lucy sucked in a harsh breath, and blinked, fast and repeatedly, and then her nose began to bleed.

“Lucy!” Bonnie called out. “Stop! It’ll kill you!”

If she heard, Lucy gave no reaction to it. Lost in the thrall of her own spell, she kept going, blood coming out of her nose, her ears, and then her eyes rolled over white and she crumbled to the floor. She hit the ground hard, and Bonnie panicked, because over the noise of the continued fighting, she couldn’t tell if Lucy was still breathing or if her heart was still beating.

“Lucy!” she called out, but no answer came.

The fighting continued. With the spell broken, there were only three of Ethan’s vampires left still alive and conscious. Ethan had barricading himself into a corner, protected by the flanks of two vamps. The tables had turned. He was growing outnumbered.

Bonnie looked to Lucy again, then Elena, heart-clenching.

“There’s nothing you can do for them,” Bethany insisted, and pulled Bonnie around. “Look,” she said, and pointed over to where Stefan was. “We can make it out of here.”

Bonnie didn’t follow her mother’s reasoning at first, too lost in the grief-stricken sight of Stefan holding Elena’s limp body. Bonnie swallowed, and Bethany hissed again beside her, pointing below. At last, Bonnie realized what Bethany was pointing to: Elena’s blood, which had pooled out, was less than a few inches away from the outer-most circle of the Devil’s Trap. If it spread out a few more inches, it’d break the barrier, serving as an absolvent to the chalk and freeing them.

“Stop what you’re doing!” Ethan shouted, over the clamor of the chaos. “Or I will kill all of you!”

There was growl that echoed the words, and Bonnie froze. She looked to source of the sound, to the side entrance, and found a wolf standing, hind legs stretched out and his front ones lowered, ready to spring into attack.

Tyler.

This was Ethan’s backup plan.

Caroline started to step forward, but Damon pulled her back. “What are you doing to him?” she demanded in a hiss, fangs barred.

Tyler’s teeth were already bloodstained, and every vampire in the room stilled just looking at him. Ethan started laughing. “Now, that’s more like it. Don’t make any sudden movements, and I might be able to control him. Stop him from attacking. But werewolves are hard to control around vampires. They have a natural tendency to bite without command.”

“You son of a bitch,” Caroline seethed at Ethan. The wolf looked particularly interested in Caroline, snarling with a hunger in its eyes, and Caroline looked like she knew its intentions weren’t pure no matter how much the human version of Tyler loved her. She took a bracing breath, nodded, as if to herself, and smiled up at Ethan. “You and me? We’re going to have a throw-down if you survive tonight.”

With that, she raced away, a blur of motion and vampire speed. Tyler took off after her, even with a commanding bark from Ethan telling him to stop. They disappeared into the woods outside the factory, and Bonnie could only hope Caroline could outrun him in werewolf form.

Bonnie took a bracing breath, and looked down. Elena’s blood had broken the seal. With a slow building anger, she clenched her fists and gathered her strength.

“Ethan,” Bonnie called out, bloodlust in her veins. “My turn.”

She stepped out of the trap, surrounded by the bodies of her loved ones. Ethan had a reputation for being ruthless and had demonstrated it more than a few times, but this – Elena was dead. Lucy was dying. Caroline was in trouble. And everybody else’s lives were still in danger. This had all been disastrous on an epic scale, and while the ache of her loss was devastating, Bonnie got it now. She understood what turned her into that vision of warning, that vampire of destruction. She realized what would be the only thing in the entire world that would drive her into turning off her humanity.

The death of her loved ones.

“I told you not to make an enemy of me,” Ethan warned. “Now look at you. Such potential, wasted.”

“Y’know,” she returned, darkly. “For a man so calculating, there’s one obvious possibility you overlooked entirely.”

And Bonnie flipped the switch.

 

~~~~~

Things happened in a blur after that. Ethan ran, but that was okay because Bonnie had chased him down to an isolated wooded area where no one could hear him scream. Convenient of him, really. The others were still back in that warehouse, fighting off the remaining vampires. It was just him and her, and Bonnie was glad of that because she wanted to make sure she had his undivided attention.

Pinning him against a tree, she stripped him of his powers with a spell that normally would’ve drained her. But emotions fueled magic, and Bonnie was angry enough to fuel more than a few difficult tricks. She circled around him, eyes cast up and down, and then leaned forward to sniff his neck. He’d been doing more than one type of magic recently; she could tell. Bonnie was more interested in the smell of fear wafting off him; she wanted to encourage that.

“Please,” he stuttered out, sickly. “Please don’t.”

“Please don’t what?” Bonnie mused. “Kill you? Torture you? Fucking tear you apart limb by limb?”

“All of the above,” Ethan gasped out, already bleeding from the forehead. “Whatever you want, I’ll do it. I can help you.”

Bonnie studied the trickle of blood coming down the side of his face. “What I want doesn’t require your corporation. What did I tell you? You were making your own worst enemy in me, but you didn’t listen. Now my friends and family are dead and dying, and look at you. All that power stripped, all your vampires gone – you’re nothing but a scared little boy. And I want you to know something.”

“What?”

“This all could have been prevented if you’d listened to me,” Bonnie said, then with blinding speed, rushed forward and bit down on his neck. Blood gushed into her mouth, warm and thick and enticing, and god – she’d only had a taste of cold human blood before. She’d been feeding off bags of donated blood, but this – this was maddening. This was perfect. The flavor and texture was so nuanced, delicious in a variety of senses. Bonnie wanted more, but she pulled back just before she’d drained him to death. She wanted him to watch; she wanted him to be alive for the next bit.

“Please,” he choked out, pleading.

Bonnie punched through his chest with her bare hand, fisted her fingers around his heart, and then yanked it out. Blood coated her hand, trickled down her forearm, and Ethan’s eyes were wide with horror before they drooped down to close. The clump of muscle in her hand was just as warm as his body, and Bonnie smiled as she dropped it to the floor.

The son of a bitch had that coming a long time now.

 

~~~~~

Damon had followed her out into the woods just in time to see her kill Ethan, and while not for nothing, he enjoyed the show a little less than he’d expected. The shock of seeing Bonnie brutally dispatch Ethan was one thing, but it was doubled when he realized she was left smiling over his body. Damon had a moment to let the uneasiness wash over him, before he shook his head and walked forward. His left side was aching, but his injuries were recovering swifter now that he’d had a few moments to heal. Over a dozen dead vampires, and now Ethan was dead too.

Approaching Bonnie from behind, he strode up the grass-covered slope until she turned around. The look on her face was void of any expression except one: amusement. That stopped Damon in his tracks.

“You okay?” he managed to recover.

Bonnie nodded, lightly. “It’s done. It’s over.”

“Yeah.” He looked to Ethan’s fallen body, his chest caved in and open. “I can see that,” he said flippantly, trying for casual. “You have all the fun without me?”

Bonnie smiled. “As much as I know you would have enjoyed that, I figured it’d be good if we just got it over with quickly.”

Damon didn’t answer. He joined her near Ethan’s fallen body, and Bonnie slipped her clean hand into his, threading her fingers through his like this was a romantic moment for them. There was a brief pause where Damon hesitated, then reached out with his lifebond. During the heat of battle, he hadn’t been able to focus much on Bonnie’s emotional state – but now he was saddled with it. He reached out, and beyond the relief, there was the thrill of a kill, an all-too familiar quenching of a thirst. Damon recognized it, but he hadn’t been prepared for it from Bonnie. There was nothing in her that spoke of culpability, of human emotion, nothing of that distinct sense of responsibility and guilt complex that he knew defined Bonnie in her darkest moments. It was as if he was looking into a mirror image of her, with none of the depth of the real thing.

It slammed into him like a mac truck: she’d flipped it off, her human side.

Bonnie stumbled a little, clutching her stomach as if a sudden pain had throbbed. Damon caught her around the waist, gently taking the weight of her. “What is it?” he asked.

Bonnie straightened quickly. “Nothing,” she said, though she sounded thrown. “Just felt… just felt dizzy for a second there.”

He tipped an eyebrow up, but didn’t press it. “C’mon,” he urged eventually. His emotions were tightly restrained, and he needed to keep it that way. “Let’s head back.”

“How’s Lucy?” she asked, and that was something at least.

“Your mom’s taking care of her,” Damon answered. “She should be all right.”

Bonnie’s eyes widened. “She’ll be all right?”

“Yeah, though I can’t say the same for Caroline.”

Or, with a cut right through his heart, for Elena.

 

~~~~~

They made it back to the others just in time to see Stefan propping Elena’s body up in his arms. The sickening fear and grief had only a moment to slam into Damon before Stefan glanced up, and choked out, “She’ll be fine.”

It seemed like a thing of denial, a clear case of it – but then Elena’s eyes flew open with a jerk of her body, a gasp escaping her lips. The others around them jumped back in shock, but Stefan just held her tighter and spoke softly into her ear as Elena regained consciousness.

“Oh my god,” Bonnie breathed in realization, stepping forward. “She’s transitioning.”

Stefan traded a look with Bonnie, then Damon. “I’ve been giving her small doses of my blood for weeks now. She wanted—”

“Stefan,” Elena gasped in apparent pain. “My head.”

“Shh,” Stefan soothed. “I’ve got you now. I’ve got you now.”

And, apparently, Damon realized, for all eternity now.

Elena was becoming a vampire.

 

~~~~~

It was nearly an hour later that they discovered Caroline deep in the woods, with an incapacitated werewolf lying unconscious nearby. She’d managed to run back to the Salvatore mansion and retrieve a tranq gun to finish the job. Resourceful, but then again, that was blondie in a nutshell.

They all moved back to the mansion. Elena went up the stairs with Stefan, and Bethany had healed Lucy enough that she could manage to drink a few sips of water before passing out again. Bethany seemed confident the prognoses would be good, but she also seemed more preoccupied with other concerns.

“We need to work quickly,” she told Bonnie. “If we want to turn you back, we have to do the Spell of Undoing now. Tonight, during the full moon.”

Bonnie looked back. “You’ve done a lot magic tonight. We can wait.”

Bethany shook her head. “I’ve waited long enough for this day.”

Bonnie paused. There was something more than just daughterly concern lining Bonnie’s hesitation, though. Damon could sense it through the bond. He’d been watching her like a hawk all night, waiting for some shred of emotion, some hint that she had recovered from the impulse to shut off her humanity. He had yet to witness it, even when Elena had returned to life, or when Lucy had opened her eyes, or when they’d discovered Caroline in the woods relatively unharmed.

She’d switched off her humanity, and Damon knew better than most that switching it back was a thousand times harder.

So when Bonnie insisted, “We can wait until the next full moon,” Damon flinched a little. “Look,” Bonnie continued. “Mom, you need all the energy you can get to perform that spell. I am not going to risk your life by rushing this.”

It sounded entirely reasonable, except for the warning in Damon’s blood. If they delayed it by a month, hell, even a day, then Damon was certain they’d never get their shot. Bonnie had tasted blood now, she’d felt the seduction of darkness, and that type of hold didn’t just get shaken off. Her concern for Bethany was a ruse.

“You sure about that?” Damon asked, acting like it was all a doable request.

Bonnie turned toward him and smiled innocently, and it was such a perfect image of it, such a perfect replica, he wouldn’t have known it wasn’t the genuine article if it hadn’t been for the bond. Bethany was watching it all unfold with clear suspicion in her eyes. He traded a quick, silent look with Bethany – and a strange understanding sprang up in a flash.

“All right,” Bethany said, eventually. “I suppose we could wait a month.”

Bonnie turned back to her mother and therefore never saw Damon’s attack coming. A brief flash, Damon had rushed her and trapped Bonnie in his arms while Bethany moved forward; a Latin incantation was already spilling forth from Bethany’s lips.

“What—” Bonnie screamed, struggling. “What are you doing?!”

“Sorry, babe,” Damon said, “You’ll thank me for this later.”

“What?” Bonnie hissed, then her eyes widened as she realized what Bethany was doing. “No! I don’t want this anymore. Damon, please! Let me go!” Whatever Bethany was doing, it was preventing Bonnie from lashing out magically. He held on tight as Bonnie continued to struggle, and the entire time she was screaming to be released, begging for it. “Damon, I don’t want this! Please, I wanna stay like this. Please, Damon. You and me for eternity. This is the only way we can stay together forever.”

Damon screwed his eyes shut, and just held on tighter. “You wouldn’t want this.”

“I do! I do! Please, let me go!”

“Shh,” Damon said, “Don’t fight this. I’m doing this for your own good.”

Bonnie settled against his chest, pausing briefly. “You’ll regret this,” she told him gruffly. “This should be my choice. I’ll never forgive you for this.” And that twisted promise was like a knife digging into his stomach, because, god, what if she didn’t? He knew better, but the viciousness of her words still landed like a blow anyway. Before he could respond, Bethany finished her incantation and Bonnie abruptly sagged in his arms unconscious. There was a moment of utter silence in the house, and Damon braced himself with an unneeded breath and connected his stare with Bethany.

“I’m surprised,” Bethany said to him. “I thought for sure you’d have wanted her to stay a vampire forever.”

“Witch,” Damon snapped back. “You don’t know me. You never knew me. I love Bonnie, and this—” he looked down at her in his arms. “This isn’t her. She wouldn’t want to stay this way.”

“I would’ve thought so myself, but it seems the last few weeks have changed my opinion of her. She is capable of a lot. Too much.”

He glared at Bethany. “She isn’t a cold-blooded killer.”

Bethany pressed her lips into a thin line. “Well, then, lets keep it that way.”

 

~~~~~

They prepared for the Spell of Undoing by themselves, just the two of them. He didn’t like working side-by-side with Bethany anymore than she liked working with him, but a temporary truce had sprung up in order to get through the night. Damon lit the candles and drew the pentagram on the ground, while Bethany shored up her defenses and mentally prepared herself for the spell.

“You sure you know what you’re doing?”

Bethany glared. “I’ve been preparing for this day since Bonnie was seven years old. I wouldn’t risk it if I didn’t.”

“Well, then, if you’ve really managed to master this, then they’ll be no side-effects? No consequences?”

“None,” Bethany promised, looking away.

“Then you won’t mind if I stick around to watch,” Damon said, voice brokering no argument.

Bethany paused briefly, then nodded. “Just don’t distract me.”

With a clenched jaw, he stepped back and watched it all unfold. Bethany placed Bonnie in the middle of the field and raised her hands up into the air, working her magic. It began soft, just a slight current in the air, a faint feeling of something in the weather. Bethany chanted louder. The wind picked up, and the red gem glowed with energy as the spell began its work. He stayed focus on Bonnie’s prone body, watching as a white light engulfed it, wrapping around her body like a blanket.

He couldn’t tell you much about what happened, other than the lightshow and the building storm. Damon had never really grasped the complexities of magic, not even after spending so much of his life wrapped up in one type of magical bullshit or another. To him, Bethany’s performance was indistinguishable from the many other times he’d seen witches use their powers, but he really should have known better. He should have paid attention.

He shouldn’t have trusted her.

“Restituo vita. Laxo nex,” Bethany finished, then collapsed to her knees, exhausted.

A second later, Bonnie’s eyes flew open and she gasped. Damon was beside her in a flash, checking her pulse, feeling the warmth of her body, confirming the full telling signs of life in her body. Bonnie was still struggling with revival, because she settled her hand against his chest and looked up with naked confusion. “Damon?” she asked, a bit terrified. “What’s going on?”

“You’re fine,” he promised. “You’re human again. It’s going to be all right.”

She blinked up at him. “Human?” she repeated, bewildered. “Of course I’m human.”

“Bonnie,” Bethany gasped, with blood coming down her nose, eyes and ears.

Bonnie looked over, and then let out a choked noise of surprise. “Mom?” she exclaimed in absolute shock, then practically flew out Damon’s arms to rush to her. “Oh, my god, Mom? What are you—what happened? What’s going on?”

“Shh, now, baby girl,” Bethany said, but her face was pale and she looked like a gust of wind would knock her over. Bonnie pulled her into his arms, trembling and afraid. “I know things don’t make sense. I know you’re confused. I did a spell.”

“What spell?” Bonnie asked, crying. “What’s going on? What are you doing here?”

“You don’t remember because I took away memories as well.”

“What?” Damon exclaimed in shock. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”

“Shh,” Bonnie said to him, reproaching, like his anger and intrusion wasn’t welcome. She turned back to her mother, clutching desperately. “Mom, tell me what’s going on? What are you doing back in Mystic Falls?”

Damon felt his stomach drop.

“Bethany,” he breathed. “What memories did you take away? How much?”

Bethany looked to him. “Everything,” she declared. “Everything since she came back to Mystic Falls.”

Horror slammed into him as he realized what she’d done.

It took a few seconds for him to unravel it, but he stared blindly at Bonnie and Bethany as the pieces fit together. Not only had Bethany turned Bonnie human again, but she had ensured that Bonnie wouldn’t remember a thing about the last few months, a thing about her burgeoning relationship with Damon. Her memory wiped clean. Bethany had always blamed Damon for Bonnie starting down this path, and with this one fell swoop, Bethany had undone everything they had built up the last few months between them.

He searched himself for signs of the lifebond, and to his horror, found it utterly absent.

“Why?” Bonnie asked, sobbing. “What spell?”

“Shh,” Bethany said, weakly. “Because I wanted to protect you, and now I have. You have to trust me, Bonnie. You have to trust me that I did this all for your welfare.”

Bethany was dying. Damon could tell that much, though he struggled to feel much of anything for it. It didn’t matter that she’d been lying about a consequence-free Spell of Undoing. It was obvious that Bethany had sacrificed herself to turn Bonnie human, and she must’ve known it going in because she didn’t seem remotely surprised. Damon didn’t care; he was still trying to recover from what else she’d taken away from Bonnie.

“I don’t understand,” Bonnie gasped, looking as lost as a little girl. “I don’t understand. I haven’t seen you in years, Mom.”

In a start, he realized how beautifully the witch had played this. Bethany was going to die a fucking saint in Bonnie’s eyes. To Bonnie, Bethany was still that mother figure that she’d known as a child. Bonnie would never know all the manipulative, malicious things that her mother had done since then. Damon found himself laughing at the perversity of it, but then Bonnie looked up at him and glared. There was no warmth in her stare, just anger and confusion – and she looked at him with none of the love that should have been there. She didn’t know, didn’t remember – she looked at him, and still saw the man he was six years ago when she’d last left this town behind.

“You’re safe now,” Bethany breathed, “Just promise me one thing.”

“What?” Bonnie replied, struggling to speak through the tears. “Anything. What do you want, Mom?”

“Leave this town, and never return. It only brings death and heartache. Leave, Bonnie. Promise me that.”

Bonnie’s face was a mess of tears and grief. “Mom—”

“Promise me,” Bethany insisted.

“I do,” Bonnie replied, while Damon stared on in horror. “God, Mom, I promise. Just don’t die! Please don’t die! I only just found you again!”

“You’re safe now. That’s all that matters.”

A few beats passed, and Bethany passed away with a faint smile on her lips while her daughter clutched her in her arms, sobbing.


	19. Epilogue

~~~~

The next day passed in a haze.

Bonnie wasn’t really sure what was going on. It felt like her life was in some sort of hazy dream that she had just woken up from, and everything was so disorienting. The blood of her mother had washed away after one simple rinse, but Bonnie could still feel it on her hands. Years of separation, years of mystery and abandonment, and suddenly one moment Bonnie awoke to find Bethany dying in her arms. She felt shock deep through her entire body, a numb feeling of grief and confusion that she couldn’t even begin to describe.

Months of memories had vanished as well.

She didn’t know why her mother had erased her memories, but the more she pieced together, the more she feared. Everybody was treating her with kitten gloves, too.

There were too many questions. She’d already gathered enough details to hazard a guess about some things. Sometime in the last few weeks, Bonnie had turned into a vampire. The thought was nausea-inducing, terrifying on a scale that she couldn’t even properly imagine. And her mother had sacrificed herself to turn Bonnie back. There was an ocean full of other events that had transpired – Elena was a vampire now, too, and there was something about Stefan being temporarily dead? Bonnie could barely wrap her head around it. Normally one to hunt down answers with a tenacity that would do a pit-bull proud, Bonnie found herself worn numb with too much information and not enough explanation.

What the hell had gone on the last few months?

The more important question nagged at her. Did Bonnie really want to know what had happened the last few months? Her mother’s death was like chloroform over her mouth, and Bonnie just wanted to slip into oblivion and never emerge. She’d cried her eyes out a dozen times over, and just when she thought she had everything under control, she’d start all over again. God, she was so exhausted. So confused.

This was too much to handle in a single day.

~~~~

To say Damon was in a foul mood would have been the understatement of the century. He almost preferred to leave and get shitfaced drunk on some virgin girl’s blood, but things needed to be tended to. Elena had transitioned over, but the first few days were chaotic and even if Stefan had a hold on it, Damon wanted to stick around just in case a little tough-love was needed to keep Elena’s cravings in line.

Then there was Bonnie.

Jesus fuckin’ Christ, it was like somebody had ripped his guts out and decided to slice ‘em into puree. She didn’t remember a thing, not a goddamn thing. She spent half her time in some haze of grief over a mother who didn’t deserve such nostalgia, and the other half digging for answers he knew he couldn’t give her. He’d already warned everybody else off from mentioning anything about the lifebond, or the relationship that had sprung up between them over the last few months. Anything else was fair game, but Damon knew the news of their intimacy would do more lasting damage than anything. He knew Bonnie; he knew her in a way that few others did. It had taken a long time and more than a few close calls to certain death for them to confront their feelings for each other; it wasn’t something she could be told. Telling her about it would have been the same as scaring her off for good.

Damon needed to handle that better, but how? He had no fucking clue.

He poured himself a glass of blood, when Bonnie walked into the kitchen. “Hey,” she greeted. “Where is everybody?”

“Out,” he answered, because he really didn’t give a fuck in that moment.

She tipped an eyebrow up, sensing his mood. “What has you so pleasant this evening?”

He gave her a nasty smile. “This is my normal charm shining through. Overwhelming, isn’t it?”

“Oookaay,” she drew out the word, then turned towards the fridge.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she bent over and rummaged for some food in the back of the fridge. She was wearing some skinny jeans and a pair of tanktops, one over the other, red and yellow. Her waistline was showing a little through a crevice between her pants and shirts, and Damon remembered how particularly sensitive she was in that spot, at her back, whenever he pressed kisses into it.

Bonnie pulled back. “You hungry?” Damon looked over at her with a raised eyebrow. “I wanna go grab something to eat,” she continued, entirely oblivious. “Up for faking interest in some human food? I need to get out of the house for a while.”

It was as good an offer as he was going to get from her. “Yeah, sure. I could stretch my legs.”

~~~~

Instead of going to a restaurant, they went to a bar. And instead of the Grill, they went somewhere new. He suspected that somebody had already mentioned to Bonnie that her mother had destroyed the Grill twice over because of some “misunderstandings,” and Bonnie seemed to be in a mood to avoid thinking about anything remotely serious for the evening. Damon was fine with that, mostly. He knew he had to find some way to bridge the distance between them, but at least Bonnie was treating him like a friend that she remembered from all those years ago, rather than a pariah. It was a start, and he needed to build off that – but he knew the normal seduction tricks wouldn’t work on Bonnie.

He liked the sharp angles in this new bar. It felt clean and crisp, minimal with luxury, the kind of bar where he could sit and have a drink and brood about the future without constantly being confronted with familiar faces. He should have tried this place out a long time ago.

“Elena’s going to be fine, y’know,” Bonnie told him. Damon looked over. “I know you’re worried. Broody Damon has a distinct flavor to him, and I’m telling you, she’s going to be fine.”

His smirk was a little rigid, simultaneously amused and pissed off that she was making all the wrong assumptions for all the rational reasons. Elena would be all right because she had Stefan. And who did Damon have? No one. Again. It was the story of his life, and he could’ve sworn this time it was going to play out differently. He had been so sure.

He motioned for the bartender to give him another round, while Bonnie continued to study him. “So,” she spoke up, sighing. “How bad was I as a vamp?”

Damon flashed her a smile. “Relax, witchy, you don’t have much to feel guilty about. The only person you killed was Ethan, and trust me, the son of a bitch had it coming.”

Bonnie absently flicked her glass of wine with her fingernail, listening to its note, buried underneath the animated chatter of patrons plied up with booze. She flicked a second time. It sounded identical to the first, and Damon just continued to watch her.

“You all right?”

She looked up at him. “I know people are hiding something from me.”

He tried to play it off, to keep it cool, but he suspected his body tensed up anyway and Bonnie noticed. “Yeah?”

“Cut the bullshit, Damon. I may be grieving, but I’m not an idiot. What is everybody not telling me?”

“Why are you asking me of all people?” he tossed back, and he threw an arm over the back of the booth, attempting to appear more casual as a sudden flare of hope shot up through his stomach. If she suspected, if she felt some déjà vu or something—

“Because you won’t bullshit me,” Bonnie answered. “You won’t sugarcoat it for the sake of saving my feelings. I need that right now. Everybody else is too concerned I’ll break like China glass.”

His lips curled into something resembling a smile. “And I’m the guy who’ll tell it you straight, even if it hurts you.”

The irony was thick enough to choke.

“Aren’t you?” Bonnie challenged with a lifted eyebrow. “C’mon, Damon. Tell me. What is everybody hiding from me?”

That you’re in love with me. I’m in love with you. We’re supposed to be lifebonded. We’ve fucked, we’ve made love. We’ve seen each other die. I’ve spent hours watching you sleep, and for the briefest of moments, even with all that shit hitting the fan, I was stupid enough to believe this time it’d be different. That’d I’m a fucking idiot over you, and you don’t have the faintest clue.

“Nothing, witchy,” he supplied, and took a sip of his beer. “You’re being paranoid.”

~~~~

“God, you’re a fucking idiot,” Lucy told him, the next day.

Damon wasn’t in the mood. “Seriously, not the time. I feel hungover like a—”

“Little bitch?” Lucy supplied, unsympathetic. “Because you’ve got the balls of one.”

“That doesn’t even make any sense.”

“She’s making plans to leave town,” Lucy told him. “Tomorrow. She plans on living up to her promise to that bitch, and never coming back to Mystic Falls.”

He turned back to her, sneering. “And what do you expect me to do about that?”

“Oh, grow some fucking balls and tell her what’s going on!” Lucy hissed, angrily. “Seriously, are you a badass vampire or not? You’ve told everybody else to back off, fine. It’s not our place to say – but if you think for one second that I am going to let my cousin live in ignorance about something this big in her life, guess again. Tell her, or I swear to god, I will.”

He got in her face. “You can’t just tell her that. That isn’t something you’re told out of the blue. I spent the last few months figuring her out, remember? You were the one that told me she has a tendency to bolt. Tell her this, and I won’t have a shot in hell.”

“So, what? Your big plan is to let her leave Mystic Falls? Since when are you such a dickwad coward?”

“Bite me, witch,” he growled.

Lucy rolled her eyes and turned away. “Maybe you can talk some sense into him,” she told someone, and Damon turned around to discover Stefan standing in the doorway. With a roll of his eyes, Damon threw himself into a slouch on the sofa while his brother gave a brief acknowledging nod to Lucy. “Beat him if you have to,” Lucy advised on her way out.

“Is it me,” Damon began, staring at his brother, “Or is the idea of you giving me girl advice a little trippy?”

Stefan walked forward. “Lucy’s got a point. Bonnie deserves to know what happened between you two. She has the right to know.”

“Can we skip to the end of this little song and dance? You always knew I was going to screw it up with Bonnie. Just surprised I did it this quickly?”

“Damon, you can get her back.”

He offered a laugh. “You have any idea the number of things that had to transpire before Bonnie even acknowledged her feelings for me the first time around? I literally died. Making this girl fall for me once was a miracle. It ain’t something that happens twice.”

Stefan was staring at him in disbelief. “Damon Salvatore, giving up on the girl he loves. Hell surely must be freezing over.”

Damon’s eyes flashed, warning. “I’m not giving up.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Yeah, well,” he paused, unsettled as he planted a foot against the table. “Everybody has their limits, Stefan. Even me.”

~~~~

The flames of her mother’s funeral rose into the night sky. It was an old-age custom to spread the ashes of a witch across the land where she died. Bonnie hadn’t been up to making much of the arrangements, but Lucy had stepped forward and managed to get a pyre set up not only for Bethany, but for Felicia Heritage as well. Bonnie remembered nothing of Felicia, but she knew enough to know that apparently the other witch had been instrumental during the final battle against Ethan.

Ethan. Felicia. These names meant nothing to Bonnie. They were names of strangers.

Lucy stepped up beside her, holding out her hands to show two gleaming red stones. “I found the second one on Felicia’s body,” Lucy informed. “With these two stones, magic could very well be limitless.”

Bonnie struggled to wrap her head around it, this Spell of Undoing. “We have to destroy them, or separate them. Get rid of them somehow. No one can ever know about them.”

“Easier said than done, cuz,” she said, then sighed. “We’re going to have to do this sooner rather than later.”

Bonnie nodded. “We can do that as soon as we leave tomorrow. Figure out a place to—” she took one of the stones in her hand, and turned it over in her palm once. “I still can’t believe something so powerful is so small.”

“That one you’re holding?” Lucy said. “That one has the power to perform the Spell of Undoing. This one?” she held up the second stone. “I’m thinking this one is the other half of the equation.”

“The other half?” Bonnie repeated in confusion.

Lucy opened her mouth to respond, but then looked off into the distance as something caught her attention. Bonnie followed her gaze, and to her shock discovered Matte Wittiker standing at the far end of the wooded area, the flames of her mother’s pyre roaring between them. Bonnie froze. Ben’s death was another solid weight around her shoulder, and though she didn’t remember a thing about the circumstances of his death, the idea of facing his kin required quite a bit of courage on Bonnie’s part. From what she understood of the situation, Matte had taken the stance that Bonnie had been responsible for Ben’s death.

What was she doing here, then?

“Give us a moment,” Bonnie said to Lucy.

Lucy paused, then nodded and left. Matte took the opportunity to circle around the two pyres and approached Bonnie from the side. They stood standing next to each other for a long beat, both at a loss of what to say, before Matte offered a dim, sad smile.

“I’m sorry about your mom,” she said.

“I’m sorry about your brother,” Bonnie returned.

Matte flinched and looked away. “Yeah, well…” she trailed off, awkwardly, and both of them stood in pregnant silence for several long moments before she picked up the thread again. “Ben’s message,” Matte continued softly. “Tell Jeremy I finally listened and took it to heart.”

“What was it, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“That his death wasn’t your fault,” Matte replied. “That I shouldn’t blame you.”

Bonnie didn’t know how to respond to that, mainly because she had no way of knowing one way or another where the responsibility of Ben’s death should have landed. She felt heartache and guilt over the loss, but she doubted that meant much in terms of true responsibility. Of course, everybody else had told Bonnie that she had nothing to feel guilty about, but that’s just what people had to say. It didn’t mean much.

But coming from his sister, it mattered more than most.

Matte offered a small smile. “I know more than anyone that Ben had a hero complex. He always rushed into things and tried to make them better. It was his nature. I’m sorry I blamed you for his death. That wasn’t fair of me.”

Bonnie hesitated, then reached forward to take Matte’s hand into hers, and turned, staring at the fire again. They stood side-by-side, and soon Lucy returned and took Bonnie’s other hand. The three witches stood before the two pyres, and it was somehow appropriate. Fitting. There was a sacred calling to magic, and the end of two powerful witches such as Bethany and Felicia deserved a private send-off like this.

She thought that her mother would’ve approved.

~~~~

It was near midnight when Bonnie quietly walked Matte back towards her car. “Sorry I gotta split already, but I’ve got a long drive ahead of me, and I just—”

“You can stay the night at my place,” Bonnie cut in. “Or, I mean, the Salvatore place. They’ve got more than enough room.”

Matte snorted. “Yeah, tell your boyfriend I appreciate the offer, but I doubt I’d feel comfortable staying at the place of two vamps.”

Bonnie blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“No offense,” Matte went on to say, quickly. “It’s just I’m not as comfortable staying with vamps as you are. You know how it goes.”

“No, wait, back up a second. My boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” Matte responded, lifting an eyebrow. “Damon Salvatore.”

Bonnie paused, then burst into a small bubble of laughter. “Oh, god, Matte. No. Just, no.”

“Oh, c’mon, Bonnie, don’t even try to deny it. I saw you two together.”

“I have no idea what you think you saw, but there’s no way—”

Matte rolled her eyes. “Really? You’re honestly gonna stand there and tell me you didn’t hit that?”

Bonnie’s eyes bulged out a little. “Hit that? That, as in Damon Salvatore? Yeah, I am going to say that with reasonable certainty.”

Matte shrugged and offered Bonnie a disbelieving look. “Whatever. Your loss, I guess. I could’ve sworn you were together. I figured that was why Ben was so jealous of him.”

Ben was jealous? Of Damon? Bonnie was having trouble wrapping her head around all the craziness that Matte was sprouting, so she thought it best to just leave it alone without remark. Changing the subject and trying her best to shake off that… strange topic, she bid Matte goodbye and watched her load into her car and drive away.

A few seconds later, Lucy approached her from behind. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” Bonnie said, still a little thrown. They walked towards Bonnie’s truck quietly, before she broke the hush with a small laugh. “You won’t believe what Matte just implied. She thought Damon and I were together. How crazy is that?”

She tried to play it off as a joke, but Bonnie was strangely keen on watching Lucy’s reaction to it, and if she hadn’t been paying such stark attention to it, she would’ve never noticed the way Lucy’s expression froze. Lucy recovered a second later with a smile, easygoing enough, but Bonnie wondered about the split second reaction.

“Oh, yeah,” Lucy offered, wryly. “Crazy is one word for it.”

Something about the sardonic tone wafting off Lucy made Bonnie pause mid-stride. She watched as her cousin circled around the tail-end of the truck and got into the vehicle without further comment, but a small bout of uneasiness had settled into the pit of Bonnie’s stomach. She couldn’t even name the impetuousness, but Lucy’s weak denial caused a faint flutter of nerves. Bonnie wanted to press the issue, but then again, she also didn’t want to appear foolish. Damon Salvatore? God, she couldn’t even be stupid enough to even entertain the thought.

She tried to shake her nerves loose, getting into the truck quietly.

But the faint fluttering emotion stayed, stubbornly.

~~~~

Everything was packed.

It was time to leave Mystic Falls again.

It was strange, this homesick feeling that Bonnie felt, when, for all intents and purposes, she couldn’t remember 99% of the things that had transpired while she’d been staying here. And majority of that had been the usual anarchy and mayhem that she’d come to expect of Mystic Falls. But for better or worse, even though Bonnie had spent the better part of the last decade avoiding this town like it’d bring the plague, it was still her hometown.

Her mother had a point, though. Mystic Falls brought more than its fair share of heartache and pain. She’d long ago buried a grams and a father here, and now she had laid her mother’s ashes to rest over the eastern woods. A part of Bonnie couldn’t wait to get out of this town fast enough.

She’d miss her friends, though. The one setback to keeping her promise to Bethany was that she could no longer keep up the hope or pretense of one day returning to this place, growing old alongside her childhood friends. Not that she’d have anyone to grow old with, exactly. Elena and Caroline were both vampires now.

Jesus. Her life was weird.

Shrugging her shoulder bag on, Bonnie walked out of the Salvatore boarding house and into the sunlight. Lucy was loading her stuff on the back of her father’s truck, and Elena, Stefan, and Caroline were standing to one side, waiting. Bonnie made her second rounds of hugs and goodbyes, having already bid her farewells once before the previous night with Jeremy and Tyler, and this round was ten times worse. Her running mascara threatened to turn her into a walking mess with all the tears that threatened to spill loose, but Bonnie tried not to turn into a sobbing mess again.

Caroline was the last one to hug her. “Stay in touch,” she whispered, sniffling a little. “Just because your mom doesn’t want you here, doesn’t mean you won’t always have a place.”

There was a little malice in the words when Caroline mentioned her mother, and not for the first time, Bonnie wondered if there was a whole lot more to the “misunderstandings” that everybody kept mentioning when telling the tale of Bethany’s stay in Mystic Falls. Bonnie got the sense that everybody was trying to protect her from some messy truths, and though she’d tried to get the entire story, everybody was apparently on the same page. To be honest, Bonnie was a little too worn thin with grief to press the issue too hard. Maybe one day, but not any time soon. She wasn’t ready to learn the ugly truth about a mother who had just died in her arms. Bonnie wasn’t really ready for much, after that.

“Leaving without saying goodbye again?” a voice rang out.

Bonnie turned to find Damon perched against one end of her truck. Suddenly, everybody else found elsewhere to be, because the entire area quickly cleared out and it was suddenly just him and her. Bonnie felt the air thicken with some type of atmosphere she couldn’t describe, but she wondered if it was just her overactive imagination acting up; Matte’s words had the annoying habit of staying lodged in her dreams all night long, rather taunting. And explicit. Very, very explicit.

“Again?” Bonnie returned, trying for an even tone.

“You left the last time without any goodbyes,” Damon told her.

Bonnie had to pause to think about it, and realized he was right. The last time she’d left this town, six years ago, she’d been an absolute mess. She hadn’t been thinking about much, and apparently saying goodbye to Damon hadn’t made the list. She flinched a little, offering a shrug of apology, then walked forward to give him a hug as well. She doubted that Damon was the hugging type, and she might not have even tried six years ago, but she felt like it was the right gesture to make.

What she hadn’t anticipated was the way Damon felt, wrapped up in her arms. There was that damn faint fluttering in her stomach again, acting up. The scent of his cologne was familiar and enticing, and Bonnie fought back a rush of goose bumps that broke out across her skin. He held on tighter and for longer than necessary, and Bonnie found herself in strange agreement with the reaction. When she finally pulled back, her throat was dry, and she tipped her head up, slowly, staring at him.

She wasn’t expecting him to dip his head and press a chaste kiss to a corner of her lips, but she didn’t argue with that either. Heat and something far more potent, far more dangerous, flooded through her, and for a second, a reckless impulse took up where Bonnie wanted to kiss him again, wanted to shift that last inch to the side and kiss him full on the mouth.

Whoa. Déjà vu.

She stepped back with a sudden jerk, and straightened herself.

Something had just happened. Something had flared inside of her, and Bonnie didn’t have the faintest clue what to call it, but it was throwing her bearings in every direction. She connected her gaze with Damon, and he was watching her intently, an expression on his face she’d only ever seen him give Elena.

Bonnie panicked. “So, um, look. I’ll see you around? I mean, not around. I’m not going to be around. But I’ll see you when I see you?”

God, she was rambling, making an idiot out of herself.

Damon’s face fell, just for a second, but Bonnie saw it, and that just made her panic more. “See ya, witchy. I might even visit you at college, if I’m ever nearby.”

What did that even mean? Since when did Damon have any reason to go north towards Salem?

Before anyone could say anything else, Bonnie climbed into her truck and honked the horn for Lucy to join her. She wrapped her hands around the steering wheel, trying in futility to tame her erratic heartbeat, convincing herself that the moment she had just shared with Damon was all in her head. She ignored the pointed look Lucy sent her way as she climbed into the passenger seat, or the way that Damon’s eyes followed her; she barely waved farewell to her friends as she pulled the truck into reverse and sped down the driveway.

“Crazy,” Lucy remarked, in a rather knowing tone. “Huh?”

~~~~  
Epilogue

Three months passed.

Damon had a plan. It involved him making a trip up to Salem, showing up one day out of the clear blue sky under some yet-unidentified excuse; he’d build upon their friendship with a slow and steady seduction until Bonnie wouldn’t even know what hit her. He couldn’t just rush into it, though. He had to be patient, and think of a damn good excuse that would necessitate him being near Salem for at least a few weeks, maybe even a few months. Until then, Damon formulated every move like was playing a well thought out game of chess. Bonnie would require some measure of wooing, he figured.

If Damon had bothered to ask anyone – and he didn’t, pointedly – they would have told him that he was playing the “slow and steady” plan of his a little too slow. Obviously they’d forgotten that he was the same guy that had waited a hundred and forty years for Katherine; not that it had done him much good, in the end. But he knew that he had to let things simmer down before trying with Bonnie again. Bonnie needed time. She needed to get over her grief, and recover some semblance of equilibrium before he stormed the castle and started sweeping her off her feet.

Or so he told himself.

A small part of him idly wondered if he wasn’t using that as an excuse to hide from the sting of rejection again. There were only so many times a guy could have his heart ripped out of his chest and stomped upon before he got gun-shy, no matter how stupid in love he was. But he had a plan, and those were nifty things to have if he wanted to keep himself sane during the waiting.

In the meantime, he kept himself busy the way he normally did – helping Elena with her transitioning, keeping the Counsel in the dark with his secrets; he enjoyed a nice little rough and tumble with some of the vampires that Ethan had left behind in his wake, and cleaning up the town in the aftermath of Bethany Bennett’s escapades was more than a little time-consuming as one-after-another witch and warlock was drawn towards Mystic Falls in the hunt for the red stones and the fabled Spell of Undoing. Thankfully, Lucy and Bonnie had handled getting rid of the stones as expected, and beyond a few harrying close calls, they’d managed to keep everything under wraps.

It was business as usual in Mystic Falls.

Which was why, one random Tuesday, when Damon walked down the stairs of his house, he was shocked to discover Bonnie moving about in his kitchen, putting groceries away in his fridge.

“Um,” Damon began, confused. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Bonnie returned easily, head half buried in the fridge. “Your milk’s expired.”

Damon stared at her. “And you felt breaking into my house was a reasonable step in fixing this problem?”

Bonnie pulled back and made a face. “Elena let me in.”

He nodded slowly. Why hadn’t Elena mentioned that Bonnie was back in town? And speaking of, “What are you doing back in town?”

“Nice to see you, too, Damon.”

“No, no. It’s just, correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t there some sort of deathbed promise you had to keep?”

“God, you’re such a sensitive soul,” Bonnie tossed back, wryly.

There had to be reason she was back here, and his mind began listing out possibilities. “Is there some type of deadly warlock in town that you need to take care of?” He paused, snapping his fingers. “No, wait, don’t tell me, Caroline’s been afflicted with some type of curse that makes her allergic to make-up, and you’re here to fix the problem before she resorts to suicide as her only option.”

“Don’t make fun of Caroline’s make up,” Bonnie warned. “I did that once and I greatly regretted it.”

He came by to lounge against the fridge next to her. “Seriously, witchy, why are you here?”

She regarded him with some meaningful look, though he couldn’t identify it. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re a Class A asshole?”

“We’re retreading old ground here, Bonnie.”

“No, seriously. I get that you’re the living undead, and you have a certain quota of villainy to accomplish, but the levels of sheer assholish behavior—”

“Is there a point to this? Or are you just trying to turn me on—”

“I missed you.”

His heart slammed into his ribs and stuck there. For a beat, he thought he imagined the words. She suddenly looked skittish, and he didn’t know what she meant by those words – he knew what he hoped she meant by them, but the possibility was too remote, too impossible.

“I missed you,” she repeated, meeting his gaze. “And for the longest time, I couldn’t even figure out why. You could have told me from the beginning, but of course you didn’t. Asshole.”

“Bonnie,” he began, faintly, trying to marshal his thoughts together.

But she stepped forward, sliding into his arms, and without pause or forewarning, just kissed him. For a beat, Damon was passive in the kiss, adjusting to idea of being thrown from one end of the pool to the other, but then he was pressing forward, threading one hand into her hair and the other pulling her waist towards his. Her hands eventually landed against his chest, and the entire time, in the back of his head, he wondered if this was just too good to be true, if he’d wake up any second now with sheets wrapped around his naked torso. But her lips tasted like strawberry lipstick, and the embrace was too soft, too heavy for a dream.

When she pulled back, he had to take a moment to catch up with his racing thoughts. Like a fingersnap, all the cracks in him had sealed up and disappeared. It was scary, the power she had over him. He should have hated it – he’d spent the last few months resentful of it – but suddenly it didn’t matter in the slightest.

“How?” he finally managed.

“Two red stones,” Bonnie informed him. “One to perform the Spell of Undoing, and the other could be used to reverse it. Lucy helped.”

Lucy helped?

Still processing everything, he held his breath. “How much do you remember? How long have you known?”

Bonnie pulled back a little, and that distance cut him up a little so he followed her forward and pressed her along a kitchen cabinet, trailing a few stray kisses to her neck and jaw. Bonnie made a small noise of pleasure in the back of her throat, rather small but telling, and managed, “I think I knew from the first moment I left Mystic Falls behind. Things kept nagging at me. I felt like I was losing my mind.”

He knew the feeling. Being apart from her these last few months had made him feel six different types of crazy. Now his mind was leapfrogging forward, already calculating the distance it would take to reach his bedroom or whether he honestly cared or not if Stefan would walk in on them in flagrante delicto in the kitchen.

“I finally tracked Lucy down again last week,” Bonnie continued. “She still had the other red stone, and I convinced her to give me back my memories. It didn’t take much convincing, actually.”

He made a mental note to send the witch a lifetime supply of the finest liquor this side of the Atlantic Ocean, as well as some naked pictures of Alaric just for the hell of it. He could probably give her a few pointers on how to get the former history teacher in bed. The guy was ridiculously easy when plastered.

She tipped his chin up. “Why didn’t you say anything to me?”

“Yeah, ‘cause that conversation wouldn’t have ended in you doing a Wile E. Coyote exit through a plaster wall.”

“You could’ve tried,” Bonnie insisted, then sighed. “Lucky for you, I still have the brains in this operation.”

He snorted. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she returned. “And I told you when we first started this, I’m not going anywhere. Didn’t believe me?” She paused, waiting for his answer, and the silence seemed to be enough of one because the truth was, in the back of his mind, he was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Guys like him didn’t get the girl; they just got the pain. She saw it too, in the way her eyes darkened. “What is it, I wonder, that could convince you I’m in this for the long haul?”

“I can think of a few things,” he suggested, wagging his eyebrow.

He lifted her up by the waist, and she wrapped her legs around his torso. Damon carried her all the way across to the nearest room, which turned out to be the library, and then collapsed onto the sofa with her nestled underneath him. She reached forward and stripped him of his shirt, and he began working on unbuckling her belt, kissing her senseless the entire time. She moaned against his mouth, then planted a hand against his chest and pushed him back.

“Wait, wait,” she insisted.

He groaned. “Seriously, Bonnie, you’re trying to kill me here.”

“Lifebond with me,” she said.

Damon froze, then jerked back. “What?”

She pushed messy bangs out of her eyes. “Temporary, one-sided, broken, severed, repaired – we’ve done this a thousand different ways, but never the right way.” She paused. “You know what I realized when I got my memory back? I want you with me, Damon. For the rest of my life. So,” she held her breath. “Lifebond with me?”

There was a pause, a hesitation.

“You’re messing with old magic, Bonnie,” Damon refuted. “You don’t know what that means. You don’t know what you’re handing over to me.”

He knew. He knew better than anyone, having already lived through his side of it once before. Having it ripped away was worse than losing a limb, but the prospect of getting it back again was a scary notion, especially since he knew what it would cost him if he ever lost it again. He couldn’t survive that, not again.

“The right way,” Bonnie promised. “You and me, the full effect. You won’t be in it alone, this time. If that’s what you want?”

She was so open about it, so earnest. Damon drew a single strand of her hair around his finger, and wrapped it in a coil. Leaning down, he captured her lips in another frenzied kiss and pushed her back onto the couch, covering her body with his. They began removing clothing again, idly and then frantically, and he whispered a quick word of consent into her ear. She smiled, reaching for his belt, undoing the cinch, and the entire time, in some breathless whisper, she began a chant.

Soft, powerful words passed between them, as Damon kissed a row of kisses along her sternum, down her stomach, towards her belly button. He pulled down her panties with a single finger and grinned as she stalled on a word, pausing briefly in her chant to stare down at him with dark eyes. The magic flowed around them, connecting them, immersing them in a garland of waves, of energy. He kissed his way back up her chest, pausing to flick his tongue over a nipple, just to hear her gasp again. He grinned wickedly, and smiled into the ridge of her shoulder as she neared the end of the spell.

He waited until the last possible moment, until he had it down to the wire, and with the last utterance of the spell, he pushed inside of her and the magic flared. Its power was old and potent, and Damon felt it solidify in place, both ways, so that he could feel her just as much as she felt him – and it was like he was complete again, whole and unscathed.

“Damon,” she breathed against his throat. “I love you.”

He knew that, could feel it in his veins, just like he knew she could feel what he’d been harboring for her this entire time. It was entwined and inescapable.

He couldn’t help but tease back, softly, “Just remember who said it first.”

~~~~~  
Fin.


End file.
